


Asleep in the End

by psychosomatic86



Series: Next Summer [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Body Horror, Depression, Dissociation, Dream Manipulation, F/F, I am not going to be nice to the twins I will warn you right now, Manipulation, Mental Illness, Mind Games, Paranoia, Post Finale, Revenge, Self Harm, basically please heed the graphic depictions of violence tag, mental manipulation, mouth horror, self hate, uhhh guts and stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:32:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7469127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychosomatic86/pseuds/psychosomatic86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stony stare, a stony grip;<br/>a year asleep, now watch him split.<br/>Your hearts in two, your souls in ten;<br/>my game's a plan.<br/>You just won't win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Good Days Start Here

**Author's Note:**

> So after the show ended on such a... _happy _note, my brain got to work wondering how on earth I could destroy that tranquility. Long story short (and believe me, this is gonna be loooooong. Two fics in total, and this one's gonna be at least 15+ chapters), this horrendous spawn of Cipher himself has popped up in my head. I have a lot of pain in store for our favorite twins, so I hope you stick with this!__
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _This work is also unbeta'd, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know and I'll fix em right up!_  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavy minds make heavy souls;  
> burdened seeking what he stole.  
> Find comfort in your own reflection.  
> Suffer without self-redemption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The twins ain't sittin pretty with their heads after all that junk went down. Let's see how I can use that to torture them even further! Who's with me!!! Woo!!

Perhaps it was the anticipation, the air had hung electric with it the past two weeks as the twins all but begged the final days of eighth grade to finish up already, anticipation that teased at the back of their minds from the first day of homeroom to the final practice session for their graduation ceremony.

 

The last day of classes, they passed coded notes back and forth that the teachers chose to ignore because Mason Pines had been such a diligent student (sans the first semester where he just couldn't seem to keep pace), and what could they really do to discipline his sister, anyway? Admittedly, she was definitely more tame this year, but she was still the most effervescent girl in the grade by anyone's standards, and it took more effort to attempt calming her than it did dealing with her antics in general, so they let her alone and found comfort in discussing how on earth high school was going to handle her.

 

Perhaps it was a slight anxiety that things just might not be the same this coming summer. So much had happened last year that the twins feared this one might not measure up in the same way. With no author to unmask and no looming threat of the end of the world, with the Journals destroyed and the two most familiar with them off in the Arctic seducing - “ _Cataloging,_ Stanley.” - selkies and stealing - “ _Archiving!”_ \- artifacts, with the perfect ending of last summer, especially, they weren't so sure how to start this one. Still, they held on to a mutually tenuous confidence that it would be just as just as fantastic as the last, if not more so.

 

But perhaps, and this was most likely of all, it was the battle with their own, inner demons, with nerves and dread and miserably imbalanced chemicals that left them seeking reassurance in one another when the more painful recollections of that sleepy, Oregon town plagued their memories. It was worse in the months immediately proceeding their departure from Gravity Falls, and it came as no surprise when they both admitted their inner turmoils to one another.

 

For Mabel, it was often an overwhelming sense of guilt not to mention occasional but severe bouts of dissociation that required the combined efforts of Dipper and their Grunkles over Skype to assuage. It took so many careful reassurances and hugs for her to even begin considering that she had not caused Weirdmaggedon, that she was, in fact, the victim not the perpetrator of the efforts of “One helluva three-faced bastard, 'scuse my French.”, and of course they understood how it wasn't going to be easy to accept this, but they would help her whenever and however she needed. She perked up considerably with the support of her brother and Grunkles (they chose not to confide in their parents any of the more severe events of their summer for obvious reasons), and though the self doubt and loathing never quite went away, Mabel put on a brave face even on her worst days, pushing through until the inevitable evenings where she would curl up in Dipper's bed and cry and blubber until she tired herself out and fell asleep to wake up happier and more determined in the morning.

 

Dipper didn't allow himself the luxury of such cathartic breakdowns, choosing instead to seek solace in his reclusive tendencies, bottling up his creeping paranoia and general sense of inadequacy that left him an anxious mess half the time and an emotionless shell staring placidly off into space the other half. This was how he coped at first, and it worked. At first. But he couldn't last like that forever, and everything revealed itself the day he found himself staring down a neatly disheveled selection of forks he hadn't even recalled amassing on the bathroom sink.

 

It was a blessed and horrible thing that his choked scream caught Mabel's attention, and she cradled him in her arms as all his stifled fears and tears spilled out. She worked doubly as hard as he had with her to help. It was one thing with her own issues, but she couldn't fathom how terrible it would be to have the constant fear that some slit-eyed monster might appear out of nowhere, offering the world in his hands.

 

This was all to say the past summer had practically done the entire number line reaching to infinity on their psyches, but they had friends and family over sub-par video quality to support them, to threaten violence against any triangular object or “fat, bumbling baldy with a stutter” they might encounter.

 

Pacifica and Gideon, now good friends after they rejoined society as only _mildly_ disdained presences, reminded them constantly about how they were going to spoil the twins rotten come June, a sentiment that felt a bit awkward (mostly in regard to Gideon) but was still deeply appreciated. Soos bragged on and on in his amiable way about all the new attractions (“We put in a zipline, dude!”), and Wendy constantly threatened Dipper that he'd better remember to bring her hat, her words punctuated with a wink and a smile that still made him blush.

 

Most importantly, though, the twins had the knowledge that they could always count on each other; if all else failed, they still had a sibling by their side, through thick or thin.

 

“Better or worse, bro-bro.”

 

“Sounds like we're getting married.”

 

“ _Pff,_ as _if!_ I'll be marrying someone about ten _bajillion_ times hotter than you, thank you very much and also _ew._ ”

 

“Ew yourself, you think I'm hot.”

 

“Fight meme.”

 

So perhaps it was one of these things, or perhaps a combination of all three. Whatever the catalyst, however, the fact still remained that neither Dipper nor Mabel seemed to be getting any sleep the night before they were once again headed for Gravity Falls, both of their minds burdened with a million and one, racing thoughts, and around 1 a.m. they finally gave up their respective ghosts, releasing frustrated sighs that startled the other, both of them unaware they weren't alone in their mental tossing and turning.

 

They didn't speak right away, though, as it usually went, it was Mabel who eventually broke the silence.

 

“Dip?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

She let the quiet settle, and normally Dipper would be irked by her tapering off immediately after initiating conversation, but he almost preferred it to what he knew she really wanted to ask.

 

There was a sound of rustling blankets, and he turned his head to see his twin, silhouetted in the moonlight, peering at him over the top of her duvet.

 

“You doing okay?”

 

He opened his mouth to give a huffy reply, the early hour settling none too pleasantly on his nerves, but it came out as a depleted sigh, instead, and he knew there was no hiding it. Still, he didn't want to get into himself. Yet. If it could be helped. So he turned the question back on Mabel, and she let out an equally long breath.

 

“I dunno, bro-bro. Guess I'm just kinda scared a bit.”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Dipper announced to the ceiling, “the understatement of the century.”

 

There was a muffled snort and a, “Shut up, nerd.” before the quiet filtered in again.

 

“It's gonna be fun, though, right?” Mabel again, with just a hint of desperation tinging her words. “The same as last year?”

 

“Hopefully not _exactly_ the same.” Dipper quipped, intending to lighten the suddenly heavy mood but doing the exact opposite.

 

“ _Shoot_ _.”_ Mabel muttered, rubbing at her eyes where tears had sprung of their own accord. Because that stupid, poisonous mental dialogue was nagging at her again. Because if it hadn't been for her, then Dipper wouldn't even need to say things like that.

 

“Mabes?”

 

“M'fine.” She sniffled, and, in no time at all, Dipper was out of his bed and into hers, pushing her gently over to make room before pulling her back in a hug.

 

“Sorry, broseph,” she said, shivering despite herself, “didn't mean to get worked up. Gotta love this, huh?”

 

“It's okay.” He spoke into her hair, and she closed her eyes, snuggling closer. “Just breathe. It'll pass, you'll be okay.”

 

He wasn't feeling all that well, himself, but he'd retained the ability to shove everything down despite his sister and Grunkle's insistence that he let it out, instead, so he did his best to keep himself in check while Mabel whimpered against his chest.

 

 _Later. Later. Later._ He repeated to himself, keeping his eyes open so he wouldn't have to see the flashes of yellow and blue and white waiting for him in the void behind his eyelids or hear those words both his own and someone else's entirely that would mock him so viciously.

 

_-nothing without that Journal._

 

_Eeny meeny-_

 

_No brains._

 

_-dumb sibling._

 

_What're'ya gonna do, huh?_

 

_What'ya got, Pine Tree?_

 

_What're'ya gonna do?_

 

_**̙̟̰̯͟Y̱͉̋̽ͣͨ** _

_**ͣ͐ͣͧ͏ ̵̘̻̭̞̥͌͒́̒̾ ͙̤̭̯̞̣ͅ ̷̹̼̗̱̤͍̳ͧO̙͈͆͌͂̂͊ͩͪ** _

_**̭̖̖̣̣ ̩̹͚̰͙͗͑͛͑ ̦͕̪̖ͤͩͨ̇ͥ ̨̳̯͈̲̙͍ ͒̒̀̍͗͐ͦ͡ ̳̫̳͙̹̜̕ U̟͙ͨͯͥ̉͌̓́** _

 

“ _Dipper.”_ Mabel squeaked, her brother's nails digging suddenly into her back, and she wrestled herself from his arms, pushing away only to see his eyes glassy and sightless, veiled in a thin layer of tears that spilled neatly down his cheeks and into the corners of his slack mouth.

 

“Oh god. Oh god oh god _no no no,_ Dipper, _no no,_ Dip, stay with me, please focus please _please_.”

 

She brushed away the hair stuck to his forehead, pressing her own to his birthmark and murmuring quietly against his right cheek, “I've got you, Dipper. It's just me. No one else. No one's going to hurt you. You're safe, I've got you.”

 

In her head, she was hardly as collected, screaming and kicking and begging for her brother to be okay. It had been a long time since he had an episode this bad, and it never failed to scare her half out of her own mind.

 

“Dipper please. Just listen to me, okay?” She tried to keep her voice steady, but it was growing increasingly difficult to do so. Because wasn't it her fault he was this way? Wasn't it her who insisted on that puppet show? That summer should last forever? Wasn't it all her?

 

_No! No it wasn't. It wasn't me. It wasn't._

 

Dragging her sleeve across her face, she held tighter to her brother, shutting out her thoughts to focus solely on him. She could feel guilty later if that's what her brain wanted, but right now she didn't have time for its bullshit.

 

“I'm right here, Dipper. I've got you.”

 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a taunting fear that she did her best to never address called for attention once more, a fear that, one day, he just wasn't going to snap out of it, that his panic attacks would take him, and she'd be left alone and lonely and so, so guilty.

 

“ _Shut up.”_ She whispered through her teeth. “ _He's fine. He's fine.”_

 

“You're okay, Dipper. I've got you. I've got you, and I'm not going anywhere.”

 

_And neither are you._

 

*

 

Dipper awoke to the first slivers of morning sun across his eyes and his sister's arms wrapped nigh possessively around him, her face pressed (probably very uncomfortably) into his shoulder. Wriggling carefully out of her grip, he caught her expression so peaceful and unworried in sleep before he coaxed her a little closer to the other side of the bed. It was nice to see her like that, the grim hairline fractures that polluted her dimpled smile lines from so many hours of grimacing through bad memories made invisible by whatever sugar-coated dreams had claimed her difficulties for the night.

 

He wished he could be as lucky.

 

Unfortunately, the ghosts of his nightmares still lingered, and he groaned internally. It was rare he dreamed anymore, only his more severe panic attacks would provoke such laughter infested sleep, and he just prayed it had been a quick one, that he hadn't kept Mabel up too late. But there was no way for him to know until she woke and gave him that evasive, shy glance she always did when his demons were rearing their ugly heads, like she was worried she might trigger him again by mentioning anything.

 

Mostly, he was grateful for her consideration, but sometimes he almost wished she wouldn't be so delicate with him. He never remembered anything during his episodes, and if he could never recall the problem, then how was he supposed to ever fix it?

 

It was the smallest part of him that wished for this, however, the time he'd snapped at Mabel and accused her of treating him like a baby, of treating his attacks like something he could easily eradicate by ignoring them, instilling a guilt to rival hers. And both twins knew they had to be patient with one another, so it all worked out in the end.

 

Mostly.

 

For now, though, Dipper lay back, hands folded beneath his head, and gazed up at the star stickers on the ceiling, their fading luminescence fighting a routinely lost battle against the dawn filtering into the room. Distantly, he could hear Waddles snuffling around outside the window, the warm, wet puffs of his snout against the earth intermingling with the the low coo of a mourning dove, and he smiled at the serenity of it all.

 

And then Mabel sneezed.

 

“Holy _jeez!”_ He yelped, heart stuttering in his throat as his twin bolted upright next to him.

 

She sat for an unnervingly silent second, staring at the wall with wide, almost frightened eyes before her face contorted, and she sneezed again.

 

“For frick's sake, Mabel.” Dipper breathed, pulse trying with little success to settle back into his chest.

 

A volley of _“aaa-thbbbb's”_ and _“hrrnkchhhh's”_ was her response, and by the time she was finished, Dipper was more amused than annoyed.

 

“How many wassat?” She asked less than coherently, rubbing at her face, voice slurred ever so slightly from the remaining sleep that hadn't been blasted through her nose.

 

“Morning to you, too.”

 

“Humor me, broseph.” She replied, arching her back in a luxurious stretch, releasing a squeal just bordering on obscene. “ _Nyaaaa-ah! Ah._ Hm. Yeah, thas better.”

 

“How are you already _this_ crazy?” Dipper thought it best to indulge the good mood she seemed to be in. As much as he wanted answers about last night, he wanted more for his sister to be happy, _especially_ on this most important of days.

 

“Wha canna say.” She yawned spectacularly. “Issa gift.”

 

“Nerd.” Dipper gave her a shove. “Sleep well, then?”

 

“Yeah-p.” She popped the last letter as she tossed herself sideways back into the blankets. “How 'bout you?”

 

For a split second, Dipper had almost convinced himself that Mabel didn't remember last night, either, that they could avoid this altogether and just get on happily and easily with the rest of the day. But there it was, that shift in her tone, the slight uneasiness in her eyes and around her mouth. Sometimes it made her look aged beyond her years. He hated it so much.

 

“Yeah.” He turned away so she couldn't see his own smile faltering. “It was... fine. I'm fine.”

 

Both twins waited for more, but neither wanted to give, first. In the end, Dipper got up and went back to his own bed, and they both dozed in the silence of post-sunrise birdsong until their parents called them to breakfast.

 

 

* 

 

It was with little difficulty that, come noontime, the twins were headed for Gravity Falls. The morning had flown by what with last minute trips to Walmart and then A.C. Moore when Mabel discovered the former was all out of her preferred yarn - (“Yes there is a difference between Red Heart and Lion's Brand! Not that I'd expect _you_ to understand, Dipstick.”). Then their father called the bus station to check one last time that they were still cleared to bring Waddles. What should have been maybe a ten minute call lasted over forty-five which eventually revealed that someone had screwed up some paperwork and nearly put the poor pig on a 'No Ride' list, a fact that would have made their Grunkle Stan proud, or so Dipper joked to calm Mabel down.

 

Finally, though, after all of this, after goodbyes to their parents and Piedmont, itself, the twins were settled in for the long haul, Mabel with stitch markers between her teeth and her newly purchased wool spread out on her lap, and Dipper with a mystery novel and notepad he planned on using to keep track of the various clues revealed throughout his book to see if he might solve the crime before the author even revealed it.

 

In all honesty, it felt a bit forced, the siblings trying to show-up the other in how much like their twelve year old selves they still were, as though it were just like last year when they were making this very same trek up to their Grunkle's shack with expectations far less cumbersome than they were at present.

 

It had only been a year, but things felt so different, and it wasn't long before Mabel shoved her yarn into a plastic shopping bag and leaned her head against the window, staring out at the passing traffic and trees. Usually the monotony of knitting helped ground and distract her all at once, but now that she was being faced with the reality of returning to Gravity Falls, now that she was only hours away from everyone she loved and everything she feared, the last thing she could focus on was 'work 15 more inches in stockinette'. Combine this with last night's unpleasantness, and it was no wonder her mind couldn't settle. She wanted to talk to Dipper, but she didn't want to put a damper on the already humid mood, and he seemed to be doing fairly well, so why not let a good thing alone?

 

Contrary to his sister's self-assurances, Dipper was hardly faring much better, lasting only just longer with his novel than Mabel did with her needles before he gave up on the page he had re-read almost six times over without retaining even a single word. So he packed his book and notepad into his knapsack, tossed it to the floor (which startled Waddles out of his nap and, subsequently, into Mabel's lap), and stared over the heads of the other riders and out the windshield. The shoulders of the road ahead met on the horizon as all parallels shouldn't only to split back into their respective, un-meeting sides to accommodate the bus's passage.

 

Both Dipper and Mabel almost wished it wouldn't.

 

*

There was little conversation for the rest of the ride up to Oregon, the twins falling in and out of sleep and their own thoughts. Because they had left that afternoon, they were due to arrive at the Shack nearing nightfall, and, as such, were awarded a spectacular view of the sunset just as they crossed the town line into the Falls. Scarlets and plums and vermilions lit up the redwoods as the bus chugged on down the gravelly road, the crunch of the wheels a mere murmur against the screaming cicadas hidden in the brush along the shoulder. The colors bled skyward as the sun sank behind the mountains ahead, seeming to drip up the branches and leaves until only the topmost reaches of the towering trees were bathed in the sun's farewell hue of rich, rich gold. The twins didn't even realize they were holding their breaths, and then they looked at one another, shared uncomfortable smiles, and promptly plastered their gazes anywhere else but the clouds and their sinister colors.

 

It was all so familiar - _painfully_ familiar - and the twins swore to themselves they would never mention it to anyone, not even each other.

 

They would never accept that the sky looked exactly as it did when the blue split itself apart and chaos poured down like acid rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DuO1pPwgobE
> 
> (This chapter's song may change. I haven't updated my spotify on this laptop, so I can't access all the new songs I've amassed for this series. Nonetheless, enjoy this one! I think it fits pretty well.)


	2. Welcome Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year away our Pines had gone,  
> now they return where they belong.  
> And joys that never could abate!  
> What wonders do our dears await?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long to post. My laptop decided to be a bitch and kick the bucket, and I had to buy new shit and cry for a few days about all the money I just wasted, and then the keyboard didn’t work then it did then it didn’t LONG STORY SHORT LOL, here’s a really short chapter that I am not proud of but it’s something, I suppose. 
> 
> Idk, I’ve been emotionally wonky thanks to the cipher hunt, and my heart hasn’t been in writing all too much, but hopefully I’ll pick myself up soon.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it all the same!
> 
> (I’ve also elected to ignore the Journal’s canon for two reasons: one, I don't want to spoil anything if you haven't gotten your copy yet, and two, it’s just a bit irksome to try to work it into this story. It’s not like major changes need to be made, but I’m being a bit lazy and wanting to stick to my own canon (although it does actually coincide with the Journal’s, anyway, so technically I’m not _that _lazy lol.))__

In the low light of early evening, the Shack looked just as invitingly decrepit as it did the last time the twins saw it, and Mabel wanted to cry for the comfort it brought her. When all else had failed last year, they were still able to turn to this shambling building for safety and certainty, and the joy she felt was almost indescribable. Dipper, too, was relieved to see the tacky, termite stricken totem pole was still standing and the “S” was still not, but he refused to acknowledge the tightness to his throat and the faint stinging at the corners of his eyes, if only for the fact that Mabel would tease him relentlessly.

 

The bus dropped them off right out front, lingering like they were tourists arriving too late to waste their money, but they barely had a moment to tell the driver that this really was their destination before large arms were scooping them up and squeezing the air from their lungs.

 

“Soos!” Mabel laughed, and it was the most genuinely happy Dipper had heard her in a long time.

 

“Oh man, you have no idea how much I've missed you dudes!” Soos's voice was muffled, and when he finally set them down at Melody's request to please not squish them to death, the twins could see his eyes were shining.

 

“Oh my gosh, Soos, no!” Mabel threw herself back into his arms, clinging to his shirt. “Don't you dare cry or you're going to get me started and then everybody's gonna cry and it'll suck.”

 

“Sorry, hambone.” Soos laughed a bit shakily. “i just can't believe you're finally back.”

 

“We missed you, too, man.” Dipper said, hands in his pockets, face angled away as he tried to control his lower lip.

 

“But now everyone's here.” Melody's gentle voice chased the weepy silence away. “And we have so much to show you.”

 

Mabel detached herself from Soos and all but launched herself at Melody.

 

“I can't believe how great you guys are.”

 

It was true, she really couldn't, but not in the way that left her feeling like a shivering ghost trying futilely to return to its body. This was pleasant and warm and _happy _disbelief, and it suddenly made no sense that she had almost not wanted to come at all. Her worries seemed so many thousands of miles away at the moment, this one grounding her in the perfection of present and all the gifts it was giving her merely by having the closeness of two of the people she so dearly loved and who loved her in equal measure. She adored the Falls and everyone in it, and nothing could ever take that away from her.__

__

__Equally as overwhelmed, Dipper was coming to the same conclusion, the realization that they had long since eradicated the evil that plagued the mysterious town to leave only the kindness and oddities of their friends and family dawning on him. And even if there were still the memories and the scars, right here, right now, nothing but the scent of the resinous pines and the wind filtering through the trees could touch them. That, and Soos's incessant hugs, the man gathering them up one final time before grabbing their luggage and herding them towards the Shack, but neither twin was about to complain. They felt safe in his embraces, like everything was just okay._ _

__

__“We have a lot of surprises for you dudes.” Soos called over his shoulder as he lumbered up to the porch and nudged the screen door open with his foot. “And everyone is so stoked to see you. We're closed tomorrow so we can have, like, a welcome back party.”_ _

__

__“Soos!” Melody admonished, smacking him lightly on the back of the head. “That was one of the surprises!”_ _

__

__“Oh, oops.” He turned to the twins sporting a sheepish half grin. “My bad, dudes.”_ _

__

__Dipper shrugged and laughed whereas Mabel grumbled something about never getting a surprise party, but she meant well by it and poked Soos in the stomach saying, “Well the other stuff better make up for this otherwise I'm never forgiving you.”_ _

__

__“Don't worry hambone.” He winked, setting their bags down in the foyer and gesturing towards the stairs. “It will.”_ _

__

__-_ _

__

__"DIPPER, GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW AND LOOK AT THIS!!"_ _

__

__Dipper hardly reached the landing before a hand grasped him by the collar and yanked him into their room._ _

__

__"What the heck, M-?"_ _

__

__The protest died in his throat as he took in the fantastic sight before him, and he stood gaping in awe while his twin squealed and bounced on her toes nearby, gauging his reaction to the complete overhaul Soos and Melody had done to the rickety room._ _

__

__Where splintery support beams and sunken mattresses had once comprised the homey homeliness of the attic, the room was now tailored perfectly down the middle to suit the twin's apparent aesthetics. For Mabel, it was canopied curtains over a pastel accented bedspread, the passivity of the colors emphasized by the canary yellow paint her wall had been coated in. Dipper's was a stark but complementary contrast to his sister's - deep, midnight blues and jades furnishing his very own bunk bed. From the fairy lights tacked up in pinks and greens to the extra packs of pens, band aids, and a temptingly shiny pair of binoculars on the desk at the foot of the bunk bed, everything was so carefully considered, and both twins found themselves with very little idea of how to begin processing such a grand gesture._ _

__

__"Built everything ya see, dude." Soos said proudly, guiding Dipper into the attic proper so he could show off his handiwork. "Or at least, everything that can be built."_ _

__

__"And I oversaw." Melody added, though her attention was quickly diverted as Mabel decided it was time to let the woman know how _"Super duper extra scoop-er of sprinkles on top amazing!!!!" _her interior design skills were. Dipper was thankful that a discerning eye had been kept on Soos, though, what with his "innovative" means of carpentry resulting in more than just splinters. This minor apprehension aside, the craftsmanship was actually quite thorough, the wood comprising the sturdy frame a warm brown hue that matched pleasantly with the duvet.___ _

____ _ _

____"You guys are the best!" Mabel's voice rang out through the attic, more than making up for Dipper's silence, and she jumped up and down on her bed. Waddles celebrated, too, running in circles and into Melody's legs as the woman did her best to try and calm the eccentric twin down._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____"This is just so awesome." Mabel finally ceased wrecking the neat linens, opened her arms wide, and fell back into the hoard of pillows cluttered, it would seem, for just that purpose, smiling up at the ceiling despite the fact her favorite molds were no longer there._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____"I can't believe you guys did all this for us."_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____"Well, it wasn't as though we weren't going to touch up this place, right? Sure your uncle was a little cheap, but we wanted you two to have something especially special to come back to. After everything, we want to make sure this is your best summer yet."_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Melody barely finished before Mabel was tackling her with a hug to rival Soos's. _"Th' best!" _The girl sang, throwing her head back to meet her brother's gaze upside down. "Right, Broseph?"___ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______Caught off guard for a moment, Dipper fumbled for a proper response._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______"Ha! Y' made him speechless!"_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______"Nuh-uh."_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______"Speechless, _duuude." _Soos poked at him, earning a playful smack to the shoulder.___ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Alright, man, I admit it. This is so cool. Like, _so _cool." A wide grin split his face. "You guys are seriously awesome."___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"And it's only gonna get awesomer, hambones."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"I think I'm gonna cry.” Mabel wiped away invisible tears, though her chest truly was swelling with emotion. “This is too much."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Save the tears for movie night.” Melody said._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Are we gonna watch The Notebook?” Mabel gasped hopefully, and all present groaned. Even Waddles snorted distastefully._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“That,” Mrs. Mystery winked, “is another surprise. Now, you two get settled and we'll go make a quick dinner. I think we should all turn in early since tomorrow's going to be pretty busy, so you don't have to unpack everything tonight.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Aye aye, Cap'n!” Mabel saluted before throwing herself back onto her bed, hoisting Waddles high with her feet which struck everyone present as a bit daring given how much the pig had grown over the course of the year. It barely fazed Mabel, though, the girl toying at his trotters and making kissy faces. “Isn't that right, first mate Waddles?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Dipper, Soos, and Melody all watched her antics for a second before looking at each other and breaking out in hushed giggles._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I'm glad she's doing better.” Soos whispered as he and Melody made to leave._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yeah, it’s nice.” Dipper sighed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I really hope it lasts.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________This was said without his meaning to, and Soos's ensuing hug made him all too aware of his own fragility. He wasn't sure if this was good or not._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“We'll make sure it does, Dip.” A large, clumsy hand patted his head. “And anything troubling you two? Just know you're not alone. Everyone's here for you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________How many times had he heard this over Skype? Read it in countless text messages and emails and sloppily posted, water-stained letters? Too many to count, honestly, but this time, Dipper felt like he could actually believe it. It was a tenuous hope, a teetering on the edge of a cliff sort of apprehension, but even if the twins did fall, there was always a safety net waiting to catch them. And he could truly believe that now. Before, he hadn’t, but now..._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Soos pretended not to notice the tear that slipped down Dipper’s cheek, embracing him one last time before exiting the room with Melody to prepare dinner._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Dipper had never felt so grateful._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________It was almost off putting how good a mood both twins remained in for the rest of the evening, the both of them expecting some sight or smell to trigger older memories of the less than savory kind. But all they received as Soos carted them around on a quick tour of the house before depositing them at the kitchen table was a warm glow of security and hope._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________God, _how long had it been since they everything was just _okay _like this?____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Way too long, broski.” Mabel yawned, and Dipper couldn’t agree more._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Dinner had proceeded and concluded without much event (save for Soos trying to usurp stove duties which nearly resulted in charred zucchini and peppers rather than sautéed), and exhaustion, permeating to the point where Dipper and Mabel collapsed as soon as they made it to their respective beds, had settled pleasantly over their eyes and limbs. It wasn’t enough to stymie pre-sleep conversation, though, and the siblings snuggled under their blankets as they talked, Mabel’s fairy lights providing a rosy murmur against the “Neon Supernova” star stickers Melody had surprised Dipper with over dessert._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________It was all so perfect._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“I don’t even remember being this happy.” Mabel continued, drumming her fingers gently on Waddle’s snout, sighing wistfully at the simple familiarity. Both had dearly missed one another’s nighttime company, the parental Pines stipulating the pig was too big to stay in the house let alone Mabel’s bed, but the Shack was much more accommodating, and the two were finally reunited in a mountain of pillows and a chorus of delighted grunting (of which Mabel was the loudest). Even Dipper was contented by the sight, like it was the summer prior and prior to all its inevitable tragedies._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Feels good.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He refused to think about it now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“I… I missed this.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________But when had he ever listened to his own advice?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Mabel gave a calculating hum before launching a pillow at the bottom bunk and missing entirely._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“What was that for?” Dipper narrowed his eyes accusingly at his sister, not that she could really see._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“S’too late to get all stupid.” She replied rather candidly, and Dipper blinked in confusion before he grasped what she meant._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“I’m not stupid.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Mabel blew a raspberry at the ceiling, and he understood, too, that she was just teasing him. Normally, then, he’d leave it at that, but he also wasn’t in the mood for donning the whole “tough guy” demeanor (which he did poorly anyway). He’d spent the whole year trying to swallow his emotions like a strychnine crusted pill, why should he have to do that now? Do that here?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He didn’t voice any of this._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Sorry.” He chose instead, and Mabel sighed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“No, bro, I’m sorry. I just… I just want this to last for a little bit. It’s really nice. Maybe let’s not think for a while and enjoy it, huh?” It sounded selfish even to her, but she was too determined to care. She wanted to be happy, dammit - happy without an ultimatum or a sleeved card or _anything.__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“I’m sorry.” Dipper murmured again, but she pretended not to hear, turning on her side and pressing closer to Waddles._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Dipper wasn’t the only one who missed this._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________The ride up to the Falls had taken a lot out of the twins, and they slept like the dead; even Waddles forwent a midnight cuddle session in favor of drooling all over the pillows. It had been a long day for both Pines and pig, after all._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Despite this, they woke early enough to drag their sleepy selves out onto the ledge of the porch roof and watch the sunrise. Red to orange to pink to gold, and the pines were alive with the color._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________So perfect, so beautiful, and Mabel just had to interrupt the serenity of the moment with the sound of a camera shutter, snapping a picture with her phone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Scrapbook-ortunity.” She pouted when Dipper gave her a shove._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Like you don't have enough already.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Well who's to say someone isn’t gonna lose their mind again, huh? I gotta be prepared.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________She smacked a hand over her mouth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“I - I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just - it was a joke and I -”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Tears welled over her eyes as Dipper gathered her in his arms. “I know, Mabes, I know. Don’t worry. It was an accident.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________It was true, it was, and aside from a split second shudder clenching the back of his neck, he was otherwise unaffected by his sister’s slip up. It didn’t even trigger that many negative emotions. In fact, it elicited more positive ones, the memory of their great uncle sacrificing himself for his family and being rewarded with everything he had strived for his entire life making a bitter sweet melancholy bloom in his chest._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________It was nice._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“I’m sorry.” Mabel mumbled._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________That wasn’t nice; he didn’t want her to feel bad._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Just an accident, loser.” He teased gently, and she sniff-laughed into his shirt._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“You’re the loser, loser.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________He rubbed her arm absently, letting her resituate her head onto his shoulder._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“I know, Mabes.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________She smiled._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Good.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“I am so not ready for this.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________It was early afternoon, and the twins were pacing around the gift shop while the Mysteries flanked the ‘Employees Only’ door._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Nope.” Dipper agreed, stomach fluttering as he wrung the hunter’s cap in his hands. “Me neither.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“What’re ya so worried about, dudes?” Soos left his station and leaned against the register counter while the siblings continued to wear down the floor. “Thought you were excited?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“We are - totally, Soos.” Mabel patted his stomach as she passed. “We’re just being stupid, y’know?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Mr. Mystery raised an eyebrow at Dipper who shrugged all the way to his ears, a ‘You know she’s totally right’ look tugging at one corner of his mouth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“I guess I get it,” Soos said, “but we wouldn’t have put this together if we didn’t think you were going to love it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“We already do, honest.” Mabel ceased her shuffling footsteps, leaving Waddles, who had been traipsing dutifully after her all morning, to bump into her calves with an irritated grunt._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“A lot.” Dipper added._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“A year away is just kind of a long time. But we’ll be fine.” Mabel poked Soos in the side, and he doubled over, feigning agony and making a show of scrabbling at the counter before collapsing entirely onto the floor._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“You killed me, dude. You’re gonna have to go on the lamb, or I guess ‘pig’?” He amended when Waddles licked his cheek, and all four of them laughed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“We’ll have to change our names, too.” Mabel said with a mischievous smile, but before she could offer any aliases, the doorbell chimed, making everyone jump._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Save this for later, then, huh, hambones?” Soos was the first to find his composure, standing quickly and brushing himself off, casting a look at Melody who nodded and disappeared through the employee door. “Time for the real fun to start.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Dipper gripped Wendy’s hat tighter, and Mabel inhaled deeply as Soos steered them to the front door. Melody was nowhere to be seen, so they assumed she was already outside with their friends. Who were also outside. Outside the door. After a year apart, everyone they cared about was just on the other side of a door._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Oh boy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Ready, dudes?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________They were._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________They weren’t._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Why were they so scared anyway? The surprise of the room hadn’t triggered Mabel in any and she’d more or less accepted the fact that their friends really didn’t blame her for the horrors they'd endured in the Fearmid. Dipper, too, had tried to believe them when they said he was one of the bravest 13 year olds they knew, and it was an honor to fight by his side last summer._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________So why were they so scared?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________There was no time to speculate, no time to voice these apprehensions without keeping everyone waiting for hours on end, so the twins swallowed their nerves, clasped each other’s hands, and nodded._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Ready.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________The door barely finished squeaking on its hinges before Dipper and Mabel were rushing forward with arms outstretched._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Guys!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Well, hallo, there, Paynes!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“AHHHMYGOSHYOUBROUGHTWADDLES!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Watch the dress!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________The next few seconds were a tangle of hugs and laughter and screeches, and they loved every second of the chaos._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Candy, what did you do to your hair I love it!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Dude, you grew like three inches! You almost reach my knees now!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Guess I can’t call you Braces anymore?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“My cap!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Looking lovely as ever, M’lady.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Eventually they settled down enough where they weren’t talking over one another at breath sapping speeds, though Mabel and her girls continued to shriek like banshees, Grenda dragging Pacifica over to join in their revelry. Despite the obvious gleam in her eye, Wendy was cool as ever, immediately swapping hats with Dipper, but poor Gideon still looked so out of place that Dipper ignored all better judgement and punched him in the shoulder, smiling cheekily._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Heh-heh. _Ow.” _The boy mumbled, but looked much more believing of the fact that he truly had earned a place for himself in this oddball klatsch of friends.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“How ya doin’, ‘regular ole kid’?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Gideon smoothed out the wrinkles in his powder blue pollo shirt. “Fahn, jest fahn.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Drawl sounds even worse in person, right?” Wendy tousled the Gleeful’s hair which stood high as ever like an alabaster tower. “But at least those ex-prisoners are finally gone.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Oh yeah,” Dipper recalled that Wendy had taken Gideon under her wing as a sort of protege, toughening him up since most of the town’s pre-teens had a few bones to pick now that his bodyguards were reincarcerated. It had worked a few physical wonders for the boy; he was less chubby, actually had a visible neck, but his upturned nose remained just as hilariously piggish as ever, so it negated any muscle he had gained. “You two still lumberjack-ing in your spare time, then?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Nah.” Wendy shook her. “Shortstack’s gotta new thing going - suits him better, I’d say.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________At this, Gideon puffed up, tugging the collar of his shirt in a showy manner. “That’s raht, Dipper, yer lookin’ at the head o’ tours a’ this sad excuse of a tourist trap - ah mean…” He giggled and winked._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Wait, you work at the Sh-”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________“THE SHACK???”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________At first Dipper thought he’d lost control of his voice, but quickly discovered it was his sister who’d screamed the same thing, though her violent volumes were directed at Pacifica instead of Gideon, the Northwest trying valiantly to maintain an indifferent demeanor as Mabel bounced beside her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“It’s not a big deal, _jeez.” _Pacifica said, looking for all the world completely invested in her nails. “My parents said I needed a summer job,” and she could no longer hide a prideful smirk, “so I picked the one that pissed them off the most.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________________.“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHTHAT’SSOCOOLI’MGONNADIEWHYDIDN’TYOUTELLMESOONERWE’REGONNAHAVESOMUCHFUN!!!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Mabel was so starved for air by the time she finished voicing her elation, she felt near to passing out. Her friends must have feared the same because they nudged Pacifica away and iterated the names of all Sev’ral Timez members soothingly, Grenda’s booming voice slowly bringing Mabel back to best reality she could have hoped for._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Ah-ah’m workin’ here, too, jest so ya know!” Gideon piped up, a faint flush gathering at his pale cheeks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Oh?” Mabel blinked at him, still stuck on Pacifica’s news. “ _Oh, _oh!! Oh, Gids, cool beans!”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________She rushed forward and swept the little boy up in a hug to rival a python’s, making him wheeze in ecstasy. It was no secret Gideon still had feelings for her, but they had dulled from violent obsession to an understandably unrequited crush, thus Mabel had grown much more comfortable keeping contact with him. It was still a bit awkward, especially now that they were physically present with one another, but she tried her best to ignore that as well as the high pitched giggle he emitted when she set him down._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________“We-we can maybe even do tours tahgether.” He breathed a bit too dreamily, eyes distant and clouded in fantasy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________“Yeah, totes, dude. I missed chilling with pals.” It was best to just ignore any and all insinuations, and Mabel noogied him lightly before turning to Wendy who she’d not yet greeted._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________________“Blarg.” _She sighed, face planting into the redhead’s stomach. “Missed your flannel. M’gonna steal it before we go back to Piedmont, ‘kay?”__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________Wendy patted the girl’s head. “Thanks for the warning.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“Everyone properly emotional, then?” Melody scanned the group, satisfied when she saw each and every face was alight with joy and nostalgia. “Good, because the afternoon’s just getting started.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“Any idea what they've got planned?” Dipper whispered to Wendy after Mabel relinquished her and rejoined her girls. “Soos slipped up with something about a surprise party, but that’s all we got.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________The redhead smirked. ”Dunno, man. Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________Waiting to see what the Mysteries had in store consisted of hardly any waiting at all, the group promptly kicking off their ‘welcome back’ party with the largest, sugar-iest lunch even Mabel had ever endured. Melody recently developed a love affair with baking (“I’m having cravings, don’t judge.”) and decided to put all her recipes to good use in one, spectacular explosion of flour and butter and icing that everyone got to have a hand (and snout) in helping with. And not helping. But who could blame Mabel for starting a food fight? With this many people in such a small kitchen and so many ingredients singing siren songs of mischief, it was only a matter of time before a pat of butter found itself splattering in Pacifica’s face. And then a ball of dough missing Mabels’ smug grin and thwacking Gideon in the stomach whose retaliation was ridiculously overshot and got Candy in the ear, and on and on until the air was thick with flour trails and laughter._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________It was pure bliss._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________After lunch (and an extensive cleanup), Soos suggested a hike to work off all the calories and stomach aches they'd amassed, and everyone obliged - if only a bit sluggishly. It was also well past 4 pm by the time they wrapped up their culinary antics, but the sleepy haze wrought by an impending food coma was short lived, the sounds and sights of the forest making the party perk up considerably, the twins drinking in the faint, buzzing scent of ozone they’d been starved of for too many months._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________The forest was alive as ever with its magic and secrets, and they couldn’t wait to discover them all over again, now with the fresh eyes of Gideon and eager enthusiasm of Candy, Grenda, and Pacifica. It was an idea the twins had tossed around, but discussion usually resulted in forlorn nostalgia for the original Journals, so it wasn’t considered at length. But as they manuevered gingerly through brambles, parched pine needles crunching underfoot as wingbeats and gossiping leaves murmured overhead, all the siblings needed to do was glance at one another to know the conclusion they’d come to. It was the perfect way to spend their summer, after all, and wouldn’t their grunkles be so proud?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“So hey, guys.” Dipper paused to clamber over a fallen tree, turning to offer Mabel a hand. She waved it away and swung herself over, landing beside her brother with a _“Hup!”, _Waddles soon to follow.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Soos halted the procession. “What’s up, dudes?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Well,” Dipper began, “Mabel and I kinda came up with this idea last year, and we wanted to know if you guys were game, but we get it if you’re too busy and such.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Basically what nerdo here can’t articulate without a billion hours of exposition,” Mabel interjected, “is that we want ya’ll to help us make a Journal. Since Grunkle Ford’s were ruined last year, we thought it’d be neat if we did some re-research, and we super want you guys to be a part of it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Dip, Mabes.” Wendy aimed a finger gun. “That is the best idea ever.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“And exactly how much dirt and nasty creatures is that going to involve?” Pacifica sniffed, crossing her arms. “It’s hard enough working the register.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Probably a lot.” Dipper admitted. “But won’t calluses and dirt make your parents even madder?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________The Northwest hummed thoughtfully, her pursed lips cracking into a smile._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Mah parents won’t be mad!” Gideon announced as if that were ever a concern. “Ah can help ya’ll after tours. Or ya can come on tours with me and do a little research then.” He added, obviously with Mabel in mind._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“And we can come whenever!” Grenda shouted, startling something in the nearby brush. “Right, Candy?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Yes, yes, and I will take cute pictures of all the monsters.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“And we,” Melody gestured to her and Soos, “will keep a close eye on all of you. Apocalypse survivors or not, I don't want anyone getting hurt.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“We won’t.” Mabel said, looping an arm around her brother’s waist. “Promise.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Well if that’s the plan, dudes, then we should probably head back. Don’t want you too tired for adventuring.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Always on top of it, guy.” Wendy knocked the brim of Soos’s handyman hat (which he wore when the fez wasn’t a necessity) over his eyes before marching back along the trail. “Last one to the Shack gets Pacifica’s cake for dinner!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Hey!” The Northwest sounded positively scandalized, glowering at Candy and Grenda who couldn't help giggling._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Oh c’mon, you know they love you.” Mabel gave her a shove toward the girls, and Pacifica accepted Grenda’s bear hug with only mild disgust. “See? We’re great.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Don’t test your luck, dork.” Pacifica warned, but it was an empty threat, and she allowed herself to be dragged after Wendy, Candy striking up conversation about some new lip stain that was too expensive for her to afford but maybe just within the Northwest’s price range?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Oh how Mabel adored them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“You coming?” Soos had been steering Gideon after the others, but he paused a moment._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Yeah, but you can go ahead.” Dipper waved them on, wanting some alone time with Mabel. Everything had been a bit of a whirlwind, and he needed a few moments of companiable peace and quiet with his sister before the inevitable shenanigans back at the Shack._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Soos shrugged. “Cool, but don't get lost.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“We’re going to be right behind you, nerd.” Mabel pointed out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“You got me there, hambone.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Bye, Mabel!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Alright you, two, let’s give them some space.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Dipper sighed as Melody finally herded the boys away, waiting a moment until he could only faintly hear Gideon’s excitable chatter before starting home, Mabel’s hand in his._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________They walked in silence for a while (even Waddles only gave the occassional snuffle), cheeks turning ruddy from the exertion of the exercise and the humid air cloaking their skin. The trees were darkening around them, but it didn't feel ominous, expectant, merely a pleasant reminder that they'd better high tail it out of there before sunset. Even the nocturnal nemeses of the forest wouldn’t spare them simply because it was their first day back, a thought that made Dipper giddy and anxious for the sensation of adrenaline hot in his veins._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________He’d not yearned for that feeling in a long time._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Mabes?” Dipper kept his voice just above a whisper, not wanting to mar his mental tranquility._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Yeah?” She sounded just as hushed, and it made his heart swell that she, too, was experiencing the magnificent calm._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________It was the best twin moment in a long time, and he breathed deeply the riches of Oregon’s most wonderful town._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Melody is right, this is gonna be the best summer ever.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________And, presently, there was little reason for either of them to doubt this._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=4-pN7cumZ2Y
> 
> (I’m starting a playlist of all the chapter songs, and I usually put in the next one before posting the corresponding chapter, so if you want something of an auditory sneak peak for future chapters, go check it out, nerds: https://open.spotify.com/user/psychso/playlist/3GZP9R5YvoozIFbSg1JMep  
> )
> 
> EDIT: As of late, some major scholarships I’ve been counting on to help me study abroad and get the hell away from my toxic “family” have fallen through and I’m looking at either wasting all my savings trying to get to the UK, or staying another year in this hell hole. Neither of those options are feasible. That being said, I’m opening up writing commissions. You can find all the information on prices (which are so super cheap) and such here: http://bae-cipher-is-on-hiatus.tumblr.com/post/148305707321/writing-commissions There’s literally nothing I won’t write for the listed fandoms, so if you have a few dollars to spare, please consider helping me get away from my abusers and in exchange you’ll get whatever fluff/angst/smut/etc… you can think of.


	3. New Prospects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day back with plans in motion,  
> follow them with blind devotion.  
> Like commands from an unseen tether...  
> (And first _is _worst, so… second, better?)__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry for the delay. This was actually completed like two weeks ago, but I never got around to formatting, and then so much shit went down that fanfic has been the last thing on my mind.
> 
> Anyhow, here ya go. I hope you like it. Idk when chapter 4 will be a thing, cause when I say shit went down, I mean serious shit, so my attention is on that first and foremost. I'll try to keep up with this, though, hopefully it won't end up another abandoned failure like all my other multi-chapters lol.

The Mysteries made it abundantly clear that neither twin was expected to work this summer, citing the fact they had ample help already. Given Dipper and Mabel’s proposed exploits, this sentiment rang doubly true, yet there they were, awake bright and early, shuffling on autopilot into the kitchen to scarf down whatever Stan had thrown together for breakfast.

Stan, of course, wasn’t there, just a very stern Soos who shooed them back to the stairs, insisting they sleep in at least another two hours. Then, and only then, he stipulated, would he consider letting them help with tours or stocking, but both he and the twins knew he was a huge softy and would capitulate to even the most minor glitter attack. They were extremely grateful for the extra rest, though, were still stuck in a bit of an emotional whirlwind, and sleep never hurt anyone, Mabel pointed out before collapsing into her pillows, leaving Dipper to nod in agreement as he crawled under his own covers.

Some time later, the siblings woke far more refreshed and eager to get a move on, the muffled conversation outside the window and floating up from below indicating patrons had already begun arriving, and they hurried to get dressed and join the familiar clamor of capitalism.

“Think I’ll need these?”

Mabel paused from admiring herself in her mirror to see Dipper holding up his new binoculars.

“Are we doing junk this morning? Or are we gonna wait for the others?”

“Oh yeah,” he set them back on his desk. “Duh. Yeah, that makes sense.”

“ _Pff_ , nerd. Forget already?”

“No, just spaced for a minute.” Which was true, but Mabel rolled her eyes anyway.

“And we still need to get proper documenting stuffs from town, anyway.” Skipping over, she flicked her brother on the forehead and grinned. “Step up yo game, brotorcycle, since when am I the prepared one?”

Dipper huffed indignantly. “Since never. And I already _have_  ‘documenting stuffs’.”

 _Crap_ , he hadn’t actually meant to say that, but that cat was out, and Mabel was never one to pass up a feline, claws and teeth and all. And this particular secret was sure to leave a few scratches.

“It’s… nothing, really.” Which wasn’t true. It was definitely something, something that had nagged at him for nearly a year, but he never found enough reason to tell Mabel, though he had plenty to condone why he never did. “Just something Ford gave me before we left.”

Had he not been avoiding eye contact, Dipper might have seen the flicker of betrayal mar his sister’s features, but he was, so he didn’t. Though her downtrodden tone was just as telling.

“Oh…”

Forgoing a reply, Dipper shuffled awkwardly over to his suitcase and dug out the blank journal his Grunkle had given him last August, a private place to record in if ever he felt the need to. Ford claimed it would be cathartic, therapeutic, even, but Dipper had seen enough of the Journals to know they were anything but - just a chronicle of one’s descent into their own isolated, suspicious madness, and what compelled him to keep the leather bound pages was still beyond him. Which was to say he’d never written in them, but as he presented the black tome to Mabel, it felt as if he’d poured his deepest, darkest turmoils onto the faded parchment, the invisible ink of his untruths turning leaden in his hands.

“I wanted to tell you,” he finally mumbled as Mabel opened the journal. “But things were so bad at first, and I thought it would hurt you more than anything, and then I just sort of couldn’t find the right time to bring it up.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dipper laughed sheepishly at the floorboards. “Except now, I guess.”

Mabel didn’t say anything, just hummed quietly and leafed through a few pages, half expecting to see paranoid scribblings and ciphers scratched out near to tearing through the paper. And though there was neither ink nor ichor to be found of such painful ramblings, it hurt her heart to think Dipper might have preferred this to the support she offered - _real_ support, not the irrational rationalizations of his poor, wounded mind. The thought prompted a surge of anger, but it cooled with similar immediacy. This was her brother she was talking about, someone who was hurt like her and only wanted to heal. Like her. It would be stupid to assume he accepted this journal with the intention of excluding her like he had almost done with that apprenticeship. This was _Dipper_ , and he loved her, and if he hadn’t told her about this for fear of hindering what little progress she made over the year, then she could try just as much to accept that.

Sighing, she closed the journal and pulled her brother into a brief hug.

“Guess I know why you never wanted me going near your sock drawer, huh?”

Both twins snorted, clearing the distrustful air that had gathered around them.  
  
“I really am sorry, Mabel.” Much as his sister sounded relatively understanding, Dipper wanted to make sure she was okay. “I should have told you the second we got on the bus.”

“I probably would’ve suggested burning it at the nearest rest stop.”

Dipper laughed again. “And I probably would have taken you up on that offer.” At least that way he wouldn’t have dealt with the “do it/don’t do it” dialogue that plagued him nigh obsessively until December, a sentiment he did not voice.

And hey, bright side?” Mabel scurried over to her pile of craft supplies and dug out the brightest gel pens she had, presenting them to her brother with a grin no one could argue against. “Now we’ve got everything we need.”

“Well then _I'm_  doing illustrations.” Dipper countered.

“Pop-ups.”

“Proof-reading. We’re writing in _pencil,_  first.”

Mabel sighed and slouched forward, the arms of her sweater brushing the floorboards. “Fiiiine- _uhhh_.”

Dipper smirked and rapped her on the back of the head with the journal before placing it and the gel pens (offered with a mournful groan) on his desk.

“Think we should probably head down now.” He said, turning back to his sister who had righted herself and was now sporting a quizzical veneer.

“What?”

“You forgot the most important part, dorkus. What’re we gonna do about the cover?”

“Oh, uh…” Conversation tapered off into a series of “hums” and “hms” until Mabel suddenly shrieked and jumped.

“ _Why_?” Dipper squeaked.

“I got the _best_  idea, dude. But we’re gonna need all the guys together before I can perfect it.” Mabel whirled her forefingers on either side her head. “ _In my mind._ ” 

“I don’t understand you, and I don’t think I want to.”

Mabel’s response was to nab the pine tree hat off the the top bunk of Dipper’s bed and push the brim over his eyes.

“Like I need your approval for anything, nerd.” She hooked her arm in his and dragged him to her mirror. Two identically scruffy and flush-faced twins smiled within the silver pane of glass, one sporting a worn, blue and white trucker’s cap, the other looking just a bit too warm in a dusty rose sweater with a star emblazoned across the front.

“We look good.” Dipper said quietly.

“ _Damn_  good.” Mabel agreed.

Normal, is what they both meant, but good fit the mold for now, and, for now, that’s all they needed.

*

And if ya look to yer raht, ya’ll can see the “Popular Tree”.”

“Don’t you mean poplar?”

Gideon waited until the procession had paused in a semicircle around the plant in question before launching into a lengthy (and painfully accented) explanation on the differences between the common poplar and the legendary “Popular” tree.

Dipper and Mabel, though stood almost at the edge of the tour group, could clearly see it was just some poor oak decked out in customized bark stickers made to look like a pursing duck face, shutter shades, and a pile of “Seventeen” magazines littered at its roots. It was only ten minutes into the tour, and already they had encountered enough horrendous attractions to make Grunkle Stan salivate and line his pockets for weeks.

“We do not recommend gettin’ closer’n ten’r so feet.” Gideon continued, ignoring the finger guns the twins kept waving at him when he happened to glance their way. “Th’ Popular Tree exudes a noxious gas that can make ya feel like yer back in high school, watchin’ Josh th’ varsity football player ask Mindy th’ cheerleader t’ prom jest before ya’ll were’ ‘bout to.”

“Jerk!” Mabel called, and a chorus of laughter and “mhm’s” arose from the surrounding throng.

“Yes, well,” Gideon faltered and tugged at the lapels of his suit - the trademark blue that he’d he kept if only to look especially professional for work. “It certainly is a jerk alraht. Everyone got enough pictures, then? Yes? Excellent, jest this way.”

He beckoned the oblivious patrons back to the trail, striking up conversation with a woman who was too observant for her own good and determinedly trying to explain that the Popular Tree was complete malarkey, that her girlfriend was a dendrologist so she would know.

“This is fun.” Mabel giggled. “Can you believe the crap they’ve come up with?”

"Unfortunately.” Dipper said, scuffing his shoes and kicking up an aroma of dead leaves and live earth. “But Soos did say they’ve gotten some creatures on board with appearances. I think the Manotaurs and gnomes?”

“I still wanna see the zip line.”

“I’m sure we can check it out after this.”

“Noice.”

In fact, they had the entire day to check out whatever they wanted in and around the Shack. Upon seeing how crowded the gift shop already was just an hour after opening, the twins had decided to take it easy as per Soos’s suggestion, chatting with Pacifica and Wendy at the register before stalking and mocking Gideon on one of his tours. They paid careful attention to each attraction, though, storing the information for if or when they ever wanted to do tours, but some were too tacky to even _want_  to remember. Or just plain insane.

Like the “Hangman’s Soos”?

Sure it was merely a horribly caricatured dummy of Soos, but did they really have to keep it dangling post-bucket-kick from the largest pine on the trail?

Mabel had spotted it first, doing her best to block her brother’s view as she flagged Gideon down, and thank god the kid noticed and hurried the tour away because that was _not_ something Dipper needed to deal with.

“But if we don't see something good soon, I’m gonna have a word with Mr. Mystery.” She was threatening this mostly with the “Hangman’s Soos” in mind, but was also holding her hopes high as ever. She needed some adventure.

Suddenly, Dipper stopped short in front of her and she nearly tripped trying to avoid walking into him.

"What gives, brodude?”

“How’s _that_ for something good?”

She followed his gaze to where a majority of the others around them were now staring and gasped. Right overhead, a multicolor shock against the dark foliage, a pair of fairy-like humanoids were suspended on indiscernible wings, giggling in grating tones as they played what appeared to be a rudimentary game of catch. Except instead of the more common projectiles (acorns, twigs, squirrel teeth), they were using pieces of _themselves_ , tearing out perfectly cubed chunks of flesh and even entire limbs, tossing them to their friend, and fitting them into their own person before repeating the process with another body part.

“Mah, mah, mah!” Gideon’s voice cut through the nervous murmuring. “Would ya lookie what we got here?”

“Does he know what they are?” Mabel whispered to Dipper who shrugged, equally as perplexed why Gideon seemed so cool about fairies dismembering each other.

“Ladies and gentlemen, behold! The majestic Pixely!” The Gleeful gestured grandly at the pixies(?) just as a sizable wad of chartreuse hair and skull fragments smacked him on the forehead.

The next few seconds were a chaotic blur as several of the younger children in the group shrieked, prompting some of the adults to do the same when the Pixelies swooped down at Gideon, berating him in their crackly language before flying madly about in search of their missing flesh-ball.

“People, people please!” Quickly finding his composure, Gideon scrambled to calm the fervor that had everyone either screaming or trying to push forward to get a better look. “Keep calm and jest back away a moment. No, goodness, no please no flash photography. Sir, can you please get your-”

“Yo, people!” Mabel’s voice rang out, startling everyone into silence. “You heard the kid! Just back it on up, I need at least a five foot perimeter, c’mon c’mon, there we go, scootch it, thank you, that’s it, thank you, thank _you_.”

Ignoring the looks they were now receiving as Mabel pushed through the crowd, Dipper followed his sister, offering a hand to Gideon when they reached him.

“Ah-hah, thank you, Pines.”

“No prob, bob.” Mabel patted his perfectly coiffed hair. “Now I’ll keep that lot at bay while you two get whatever the heck those things are in order.” Indicating the two figures scurrying through the leaves and dirt, she turned back to commence crowd control which Dipper hoped wouldn’t include too many threats of broken cameras.

But that wasn’t his concern right now, what mattered was helping these... these...

“Pixelies, Pines.”

“Right.” Dipper nodded. “Pixelies. Now can I ask why the heck they were pulling each other apart?”

“In a minute. We gotta help ‘em find that missing piece else that one” he jabbed a finger at the most frantic of the two creatures, “is gonna fall apart completely.”

Not at all sure what that meant but not really wanting to find out, Dipper knelt beside Gideon and began shifting dirt and moss aside while doing his best to study the Pixelies in his periphery.

Up close, they were a good deal brighter and bigger (about a half foot in height), boasting patterned skin that would make even the most garish fashion designer bail for the nearest abbey. Checkers, gingham, plaid, and chevron cloaked the Pixelies from head to toe in every imaginable color, and it occurred to Dipper that it was a good thing Mabel was distracted by the tour, would be far too excited with these clashing disasters to actually assist them.

Laughing to himself, his vision snagged on something too hideously green to be foliage, and he gingerly took it between thumb and forefinger.

“Hey, I think I-”

Tiny claws suddenly prized the thing from his hand, a shrill screech renting the air just in front of his face.

Yelping, Dipper stumbled back, hitting his tailbone on a rock, and watched with morbid fascination as the Pixely shoved the piece of itself back into its head before fluttering back up to its compatriate. They exchanged a few clicks and chitters, pointed at Dipper and then over his head, shrieked, and finally flew off in a neon blur.

Mabel was at his side almost instantly.

“Are you okay? Did it just _yell_  at you? That’s so rude! Do you want me to find it and beat some manners into it? Do you need ice for your butt? And by ice I mean Wendy?”

“Mabel.” Dipper flushed spectacularly. “I’m _fine_.”

The girl sat back on her heels and gave a lopsided grin. “Just checking. Can’t have my fave guy getting jacked up on me.”

“Ahm okay, too,” Gideon said rather sullenly. “In case ya’ll were wondering.”

"Umm… what just happened?” An unfamiliar voice interrupted, and the three children realized the entire tour was gawping at them, wide eyed and certainly in need of an explanation.

Save for the Gremloblin incident, neither twin had much experience in dealing with real magical reveals, and even then they weren’t willing to end this one with a 911 call. Thankfully, it appeared Gideon had a grip on things, the boy immediately striding forward and adopting his most soothing drawl as he played down the whole scene.

“Ya’ll are real lucky! Pixelies are extremely rare, very shy, ya’ll should feel honored ya saw two of em at once!”

“More like horrified.” Mabel quipped, earning a couple wry chuckles.

“Heh, yes, ah admit they aren’t th’ most conventional o’ critters, but now ya’ll can tell yer friends about all th’ mysterious mysteries y’ve seen t’day, raht, folks?”

Gideon didn’t wait for a reply, kept talking nonsense about the Shack really living up to its reputation and ain’t these lovely people such a good audience? as he herded them back in the direction of the Popular Tree. Evidently, the tour was over.

“Probs wasn’t planning on the - what are they called? Manic pixie horror shows?” Though she sounded jovial, Mabel was also closely gauging her brother’s mannerisms, hoping it hadn’t been too much of a shock to his system.

“Yeah, Pixelies.” Dipper replied, wearing a look she’d not seen in a long time, the one where his eyes concurrently glazed and sparkled as his mouth quirked into a musing half smile. “I think they’re some kind of hybrid, like someone crossed a pixie and a cubic’s cube.”

Delighted with the momentum his words were gaining, Mabel eagerly joined in speculating on the strange creatures.

The name is total wordplay. Pixels? Pixies? Get it?”

“Bet you Soos came up with it.”

“But why the heck were they tearing themselves up like that?”

Dipper made a show of pursing his lips and tapping his chin. “Masochistic mating ritual?”

“Ha! Ew!” Mabel punched his shoulder. “I mean, yeah probably, but still, _gross._ ”

“Gideon’ll explain, I’m sure.” He said. “And hey, you wanna make that our first entry?”

It was Mabel’s turn to exaggerate a moment of intense pondering. “Weird bdsm fairies? Sounds _perfect._ ”

The rest of the way back to the Shack was a commotion of giggles and asking how Mabel knew what bdsm was which subsequently turned the interrogation right back on Dipper, the topic dropped only when they made a pact to never let anyone know about the sketchy Internet ads they'd accidentally clicked on.

-

"So that _was_ a mating ritual?”

Mabel made a gagging sound as Dipper continued questioning Pacifica, the three of them plus Wendy and Gideon cloistered intermittently on and around the register counter. Business slowed after they returned, and, not wanting to waste the opportunity, Dipper had grabbed a notebook and pencil from upstairs (he’d re-record in the new Journal, later) and was contentedly badgering his three friends about the enigmatic pixies.

So far, he’d gathered that Gideon and Wendy originally discovered them, but oddly enough, the only one able to offer the most useful information was Pacifica, her fashion expertise having made her something of a celebrity amongst the creatures. Grateful her curiosity had matured from just useless materialism to genuine intrigue about the supernatural (and useless materialism), Dipper listened intently as the Northwest talked, taking down everything she said that was worth substance. Which turned out to be quite a lot.

“Flirting.” She corrected. “Mating ritual sounds too gross.”

Nodding, Dipper kept what he’d written.

“But yeah, they try to match patterns with a prospective partner.” She laughed and shook her head. “Actually, they wanted to recruit me as a match maker, like, literally, since they don't seem to know a thing about color or pattern schemes. Makes for some really bad couples, I guess.”

“Was the pay good?” Mabel, lying on her back on the counter, grinned at Pacifica upside down. “Cause I might take the job if ya don’t mind.”

“Mouse pelts, hon.”

Dipper jotted this down, adding a side note of ’ _possibly carnivorous_?’.

“Well, that sucks bananas,” Mabel groaned. “But at least I don’t havta worry about you bailing from here. I’d miss your cute face.”

“And Gideon mentioned something about them falling apart?” Dipper said, not really paying attention to his sister’s antics, but he did catch the way Pacifica stuttered when she replied.

“Uhh, yeah, sorry, yeah, like, I dunno their bodies are weird, so it makes it really risky when they flirt. I think it's some sort of test or rite of passage.”

“Glad our _human_  rituals don’t involve life or death stakes, ammiright?”

Wendy high-fived Mabel’s proffered hand, then Gideon, Pacifica doing the same but with her face angled away to hide the blush coloring her cheeks. If anyone but Dipper noticed, they didn’t mention it, though he had a feeling Mabel was going to come screaming to him about the Northwest’s affections sometime in the near future. Something had been brewing between the two girls since February, and it surprised him that Mabel had yet to really notice. She would soon, he knew, and decided to enjoy the romantic respite while it lasted because his sister was sure to get up in everyone’s arms about this one.

Allowing a private smile, he refocused on his notes, a good half page already, but there was a lot more they would need before Pixelies found themselves pen on paper in the Journal.

 _No_ _problem_ , he thought, they could get on that maybe as early as 5 when Soos and Melody took the last shift. Would Candy and Grenda be coming, too? Mabel wanted them for the whole cover art brainstorming thing, but he didn’t see much harm in-

“YOU GUYS!” The gift shop door flew open, and in barreled a very excitable Grenda, Candy right on her heels, the both of them waving their phones about frantically.

“Gals!” Mabel immediately righted herself and hopped off the counter. “What’s up?”

“What’s up is you need to-”

“MULTIBEAR TEXTED ME AND WE NEED TO GO RIGHT NOW!” Grenda cut in, accidentally knocking Candy’s glasses askew as she flung her hands skyward.

“Wait, wait, _what_?” Dipper shook his head and made a rewind motion with his hands. “Multibear _texted_ you?”

“ _DUH_! HE SAID IT WAS AN EMERGENCY AND WE GOTTA GO!”

“Sounds important to me.” Pacifica said, clearly glad for a reason to shirk work even if that reason made no sense whatsoever.

“Ah don’t mahnd a break.”

“I’ll let the boss know we’re heading out.”

“ _Guys_!”

Dipper was surprised to hear not only himself shout this, but Mabel, too, the twins sharing a look before readdressing the group.

“What the heck is going on?” Dipper asked first. “And how did Multibear text you?”

More than a little impatient, Grenda curtly explained how ever since she and Multibear had become good friends, they’d been wanting a better means of contact, so she convinced Marius to buy him a phone a few weeks ago, there, good enough answer?

“Because we need to go!”

“But _why_?” Mabel iterated. “Is he okay? Did something happen?”

“I don’t think so,” Candy said. “But I do think we should go and make sure. He is not the best at texting, he uses the wrong emojis, but it is better to be safe than sorry.”

“I just messaged Melody.” Wendy interrupted. “She said it’s cool if we go, they’ll cover. And we can take the truck.”

“Perfect!” Grenda boomed, gesturing wildly for everyone to come on. “He said to meet him a little bit west of the shrinking glade, can we drive that far?”

“Maybe, depends on how many trees we can plough down.”

“Even more perfect! Now let’s go!” Grabbing Candy and Wendy by the arm, Grenda dragged the girls to the exit, leaving Gideon, Pacifica, and the twins to stare dumbly at each other before following suit.

“This is… odd.” Mabel said as they made their way to the truck, keeping her voice quiet enough that only Dipper could hear. “Are you okay?”

Humming, Dipper clutched tighter to the notebook still in his hands. “I think so. Just kinda freaked me out for a second.”

“Yeah, me, too. Wish she woulda told me be - oh. Oh oops.” Checking her phone, Mabel realized Grenda had texted that she was on her way. “Stupid signal. Sorry, bro, my bad.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “Just hope it’s nothing bad.”

“You and me both.”

-

It was, in fact, the exact opposite of bad, and a dreading tension lifted its dead weight from the twin’s shoulders as they stepped out of the truck to be greeted by a crowd of supernatural beings almost as huge as the one that waved them off last August. Heading the pack of gnomes, unicorns, fairies, and, surprisingly, Manotaurs, was Multibear, himself, and with a multi-faced roar of elation, he lumbered forward with paws outstretched.

“The Pixelies informed me of your return, but I could not believe it!” He said as Dipper and Mabel embraced whichever section of torso didn't have a head.

True to his word, as the twins stepped back, they saw a swarm of the colorful pixies gathered around one of Multibear’s heads, chattering away like old friends.

“Didn’t know we were so famous.” Mabel blushed, and then elbowed Grenda who had just walked up. “Why didn’t you tell my biggest fan I was back, hm?”

“Please do not blame Grenda, I had no reception the past week because… well, it is not important.” Multibear patted both girls on the head. “What is important is that you are here and we must celebrate!”

A great cry rose from the surrounding creatures, a resounding “ _Destructor_!” bellowed by the Manotaurs, Chutzpah pushing forward and lifting a very startled Dipper up onto his hairy shoulders.

“To the Man Cave!” The beast cried, pumping a fist in the air, and before anyone knew what was happening, they were all being hoisted onto varying shoulders or backs. The gnomes offered to assemble themselves into a throne for Gideon (who staunchly refused), and as soon as Celestabelleabethabelle finally agreed to let Pacifica ride her, they were off, racing through the forest at fantastic speeds, filling the mysterious, shadowy glades and copses with their whooping laughter.

As per their rivalry, the Manotaurs and Multibear kept trying to out race one another the whole way to the Cave, Dipper and Mabel (who was perched on one of Multibear’s shoulders) urging their friends on and cursing at each other when they lost the lead.

Hilariously, neither won in the end, C-Beth having a bit of a competitive streak and already posing picturesquely by the time the others reached the Cave - not that she remained the most captivating sight for long, much to her annoyance.

“This. This is sick, dude.” Wendy jumped off of her Manotaur and whistled.

“Thank you.” Multibear said, setting Mabel and Grenda down. “I did most of the decorating, myself, though I begrudgingly admit Gunther over there,” he waved at one of the smaller Manotaurs, “has almost as good an eye as myself.”

A good eye didn't even describe it, the Man Cave almost unrecognizable save for the packets of jerky and auto-mechanic magazines littering the floor. The entire mouth had been carved wide and welcoming, no longer a silhouette of whichever Manotaur had crashed landed most recently, so the entirety of the interior was visible. Along the back most rock face, rows and rows of dart boards were illuminated by neon signs (that had undoubtedly been stolen from town), a clump of geodites huddled in a pile and chewing on the signs’ plugs, keeping them flickering on and off as they more or less powered them. Pool and foosball tables still took up most of the space, but a section had been cleared for what looked like a makeshift dance floor, and… Was that a bookshelf?

“Go on,” Multibear ushered everyone inside. “Have a look around, tell us what you think.”

“Rad.” Mabel said without hesitation. “Hella rad. Is that a mani-pedi station?”

Indeed it was, one of the hot springs surrounded by an array of polishes (hoof, claw, and fingernail), files, pumice stones, and lotions that even Pacifica appeared impressed by.

“It was _my_  idea, in case anyone wanted to know.” C-Beth tossed her mane haughtily as she trotted to the spring and nudged a few completely-not-out-of-place items back in place. “You can’t expect me to stay here if there aren’t _some_  decent amenities.”

“I vied for the books.” Multibear added, and then whispered to Dipper, “The Manotaurs put up quite a fight, but it turns out they’ve a penchant for brooding-male romances.”

“I heard that!” Chutzpah yelled from across the cave where he was showing Grenda and Wendy the available workout gear.

“Tell that to Leopold Chadrick!”

“He’s just _misunderstood_! Leave him and Virginny alone!”

The cave echoed with laughter, and Chutzpah threatened to pound everyone into the dirt until Grenda prompted a new argument by boasting she could bench press double his best weight.

Ignoring the ensuing chanting, Dipper turned back to Multibear. “So you guys are all friends now?” He knew first hand how deeply grudges tended to gouge in this town and wanted to make sure he wasn’t misinterpreting anything.

“More or less.” Multibear gestured for the twins to follow him to a less crowded area of the cave. The gnomes and Pixelies had claimed the dance floor already, giggling and passing around a flask of goodness knew what. Pacifica and Candy gravitated toward the hot springs, and, looking lost as ever, Gideon settled for watching the muscle contest between Grenda and Chutzpah along with the rest of the Manotaurs, so this left just Dipper, Mabel, and Multibear.

“The gnomes, as you know, are always neutral.” He continued. “The unicorns are jerks who mooch off whomever will supply them with enough makeup, but after, well… _things_ , the Manotaurs and I realized we do have some common threads.”

Neither twin missed how Multibear avoided the topic of Weirdmageddon, and, frankly, they were glad for it. That was last summer, this was _this_  summer, and only two days in and it was promising to be a pretty great one, especially with this latest installment of supernatural nonsense (which would definitely find itself a place in the Journal).

“They’ve come around to BABBA, Dipper, and, Mabel, you wouldn’t believe Beardy’s braiding skills. Mostly, though,” Multibear sighed as he sat back on his haunches, “we’ve kept the peace for you two.”

“...Us?” Mabel asked after an uncertain silence. “Why us?”

“It is simply because we fear for you Pines.” Multibear said rather more candidly than expected. “Misfortune seems to plague your family, yet you have protected the secrets of this place even though they have tried to harm you.” The bear gently placed a massive paw on each twin’s head. “It is our turn to protect you.”

“Uh… Anything specific you’re protecting us _from_?” If Multibear felt such precautions necessary, Dipper was going to get to the bottom of why. If they were in real danger…

“Oh! Gracious, child, I must apologize. I made it seem like there was a present threat, didn’t I?”

Heaving a relieved sigh, Dipper chuckled, “Yeah, kinda did there.”

“Ya doof.” Mabel added.

“Apologies, again.” Multibear lowered his paws from their heads and feigned smacking his own. Or, at least, the main one. “I have yet to master your human nuances. But I can tell you you are in no immediate danger, nor will you be as long as we beasts have a say in the matter.”

“Sooo, you’re not gonna, like, gravely insist we stay away from some part of the forest before pretending everything’s all hunky dory?” Mabel teased, and Multibear laughed heartily.

“No, child, nothing like that. Although I have heard rumors of sentient poison oak near the northern caves, so it might do you well to avoid that area until it gets sorted out. Otherwise,” he swept out a third paw, “our home is yours.”

“ _N’awww_ , thanks ya big nerd.” Mabel patted one of his lower heads.

“You know, Grenda calls me that all the time in her texting messages, and, I must admit, I have no idea what she means. Do you think you could explain?”

“Of course! Wait, hang on.” Mabel took one of Multibear’s paws and started urging him toward the other side of the cave. “Let’s get over there at the springs, Pacifica and Candy can help out with this, too.”

“Oh, well, certainly. Will you be alright by yourself, Dipper?”

Dipper waved them on. “I’m fine. Think I’ll try talking with some Pixelies.”

“See? He cool. As long as he’s got dork stuff, Dip is fine.”

Much as she was tugging Multibear along, Mabel waited until her brother signaled he was fine before she really started shoving the poor bear around.

“And we can make you beautiful while we talk, too. Not that you aren’t already, but everyone can always do with a manicure.”

“Loser.” Dipper said to himself, watching them go before setting his sights on the dance floor.

The party had picked up, BABBA’s most recent album blaring from the nearby boom box as the gnomes and Pixelies staggered and hovered drunkenly about, and he sat cross legged a few feet away from the central melee, recording anything especially intriguing. But after five minutes of diligent observation, the only thing he had down was ‘ _lightweights_ ’ and ‘ _terrible dancers_ ’. He had a feeling the Journal was going to be stuffed to the brim with such useless factoids if he didn’t actually interact with the creatures, but as luck would have it, he wouldn’t even have to get involved with the rowdy crowd, two Pixelies breaking from the group and flying awkwardly over to him.

As they approached, he began to catch snippets of their conversation. They were talking in their native gibberish, so he didn’t understand anything, but when they paused in front of him, the less drunk of the two cleared its throat and spoke surprisingly decent English.

“Sup, bro?”

Not that it was very formal, but Dipper would take what he could get.

“I’m Tiv, this’s Mot.” The Pixely paused to take a deep swig from the acorn-cup in its hand. “You’re that Dip kid, right?”

“Uh, yeah? Hi?”

Tiv waved their drink just shy of his nose. “Yeah, ’s definitely you. Everything’s always a question with you, ain’t it?”

Dipper flushed, realizing how stupid he sounded. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you or-”

Tiv threw back their head and laughed, a rusty nail driven through styrofoam sort of sound that picked the skin at the back of his neck.

“Nah, bro, no insults. Just good booze and good friends. Energy flow, bro, know what I mean?”

“Uh-hum…”

Suddenly, Mot, whom he’d assumed was either incapable of English or too inebriated to give a damn, flew into Dipper’s face, grabbing him roughly by the collar and hissed, “ _Bad energy_.”

“Excuse me?” Dipper tried to lean away, but the pixie held fast. “Uh what’s-?”

“Babe, chill,” Tiv said without much conviction. “It’s all good here.”

Mot ignored their friend, just kept glaring and growling at Dipper until Tiv finally had to yank them away.

“Sorry about that, bro, Mot’s kinda sensitive. Are you a party pooper? Mot’s mad good at sniffing out party poopers.”

“I don’t-?”

“It’s cool if you are,” Tiv kept on, “but we’re probably gonna bail, don’t wanna bring down the _viiiiiiiiii_ -buh.”

With that, the Pixelies fluttered back to the join the gnomes and refill their drinks, Mot throwing one last suspicious look over their shoulder before allowing Tiv to escort them into the mosh pit proper.

“Boy, you must be harbouring some bad emotions to get Mot mad like that!”

Jumping nearly out of his skin, Dipper whirled around and came face to face with yet another Pixely.

"Nervous, too!” It giggled. “Boy, that’s not a good mix. Chill pill, boy, there’s a tree behind the waterfall. Dunno how it got there, but, _boy_ , those things are _good_.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Dipper had many other questions, besides, but this one seemed less likely to send this Pixely off in a tizzy.

 _Boy_ , was he wrong.

“Ferin, nice to meet ya! Dipper, right? Yeah Alm and Dosi saw you guys this morning, and, boy, did I almost fall apart when they told us! I’ve been waitin’ so long to meet ya! Sorry ya got stuck with those two morons, though. Bad first impression, I can tell ya we’re not all that nuts. Or at least Tiv is, when they’re drunk. Mot’s cool. But not to you I guess. Seriously, boy, you got something bothering ya? Ya can talk to me if ya need.”

Blinking owlishly, Dipper didn’t realize Ferin had finished rambling until they rapped a fist on his forehead.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

“What? Yes! Sorry, sorry just…” Dipper paused for a breath. “ _Wow_.”

“What’s wow? Ya see a surprise or something?”

“Do you count?” Dipper said, sending the Pixely off on another ten thousand words a minute tangent.

He didn’t bother to listen, instead contented himself with wholly regretting the decision to study these creatures at all. Maybe that’s why they weren't in any of Ford’s Journals; maybe his Grunkle had come across them and got too fed up with their inane chatter. He could ask but-

_No, dear god no don’t ask it anything just get out of this. Go over to Mabel and-_

“Hey, Ferin?”

Ferin paused and gave a thumbs up. “Sup, boy?”

Standing, Dipper nodded to the hot springs.

“Come on. Got someone I want you to meet.”

As always, Mabel was his saving grace, the girl adoring the chance to test how fast she could gossip with an equally talented adversary, shifting topics with such ease that soon Dipper had enough information to fill three pages of the Journal. Mabel’s insistence that Ferin get their claws done while they talked meant he also had the added bonus of a still model to sketch and label. The hard part was trying to draw where navy plaid melded into scarlet polka dots, but he could work out the details later.

The whole time, however, he couldn’t help a nagging dialogue at the back of his mind, about the way Mot acted and how they hadn't looked entirely aggressive when they’d confronted him. There had been something else, a fleeting yet unmistakable expression of panic that made his stomach and throat clench.

And he had no idea what it meant.

If Mot really could discern energy signatures, were they simply picking up on his own mental disarray or something else entirely? Or were they just really drunk? There were too many complicating variables, and no evidence to support much else besides magic pixies who would make rather unorthodox therapists, so what was the point in worrying over nothing?

He really hoped Mot wasn’t that metaphorical part of the forest he should heed warning of, but, again, too many variables and not enough facts to connect them. Plus the chanting from the Manotaurs and shrieking from the gnomes was making it difficult to concentrate, and he could feel the taut heat of a headache forming on one side of his head.

“Hey, Dip?”

“Huh?” Vision un-glazing, he looked up to see Mabel staring concernedly back at him.

“You good there, bro?”

“Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Interesting,” she hummed. “Because _I_  was just thinking how _great_  you’d look with French tips.”

“Oh, boy, totally!” Ferin piped up, Candy, Pacifica, and Multibear agreeing emphatically.

“Just please nothing too bright.” Dipper sighed, hoping to maintain _some_  of his dignity.

“But the brighter the better!” Ferin said. “You know how many’d kill for a bod this colorful?”

“And how’s that working out for you date-wise?” Dipper countered, effectively dampening the Pixely’s zeal.

“Mean.” Mabel scolded. “Just for that you’re getting neon green.”

Groaning, Dipper accepted his fate and extended his right hand, wincing as Mabel attacked it with a file.

“Do you ever practice proper cuticle care?” Pacifica grimaced, earning a prideful nod from C-Beth.

“I wonder how long that dirt has been there?” Candy added.

“Neon green! Neon green!” Ferin repeated quietly, their attitude apparently very tenacious.

“I hate all of you.” Dipper grumbled. “Except Multibear. You’re still cool, man.”

“Actually,” several of the bear’s heads snickered, “I think electric orange would look better.”

“What about both!” Mabel and Ferin squealed at the same time!

“Compliment rescinded, you’re all horrible.”

Laughter to rival a whole pack of hyenas broke out among the seven of them, the noises of mockery, intoxicated merriment, and testosterone fueled shouting underscored by BABBA’s signature baseline coalescing along with their hiccups and giggles it until they were all swimming in the sound.

Just good friends and good vibes.

The best vibes.


	4. Make Your Way To Nature's Shrine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Took a little journey to the unknown-  
> thought you were safe but hidden foes  
> lay lurking where you least expected.  
> Prey, you've not been _too _infected.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought this was dead, huh? Haha, psyche bitches! Nope, it's still very much alive. I just got hit with super horrible writer's block and was p discouraged from the lack of feedback on the last chapter, so that didn't help matters. However, my beta (aka the best gf in the world) has been flipping the heck out over this the past few days, so that got me motivated enough to finish. I hope you like it. This was very fun to write.

The good vibes lasted exactly one week, and during that time, Dipper and Mabel had so much fun, they nearly forgot what it was like not to.

Proceeding the afternoon at the Man Cave were visits to town to catch up with Wendy’s crew and the former Northwest Mansion to see Old Man McGucket. For obvious reasons, Pacifica didn't accompany that particular excursion, but it was hard to mourn this fact when they finally saw McGucket, the man still as unkempt as ever, but just as excitable as they remembered him, now complete with the warm gleam of only slightly unhinged sanity in his eyes. Living in the lap of luxury with millions of government dollars at his disposal had done him well, and he jabbered on and on as he gave them a full tour of the mansion, of rooms upon rooms of half finished gadgets of every size, shape, and purpose, most impressive of which was the monstrosity occupying the main hall.

“Yessir, Mr. President, himself, commissioned this,” McGucket explained proudly as the twins and their friends stared slack-jawed. “Some kinda new stealth drone.”

No one pointed out that two tons of steel could hardly be considered “stealthy”, nor was it mentioned the skeleton of the machine was suspiciously Gobblewonker-shaped. Best to leave the old man to what he did best, even if that forte resided in creating and piloting mechanical monsters.

Much as it was lovely to catch up with the townsfolk, play video games at the arcade, and loiter in the cemetery, the forest remained the twin’s favorite haven, and any time they weren't hanging around with their friends at the register or on tours, they explored the redwoods together, not necessarily searching for anomalies (the Pixelies were proving quite an extensive entry already), but it was always a welcome sight when a nearby fairy ring started glowing.

They didn’t always go it together. Quite frequently, Mabel would glue herself to Pacifica’s side for the afternoon leaving Dipper to ponder alone. During one such afternoon, he made the acquaintance of a sprite who had heard through the grapevine of the twins’ return and also that they'd already had a run in with the Pixelies. Sympathies extended, the creature went on to explain that the Pixelies were more or less insane and to ignore any prophetic nonsense they might try to impart, a sentiment that relieved the worry Dipper had been subtly harbouring ever since Mot came at him.

Occasionally, he became preoccupied with one of the horrendous exhibits Soos was trying to set up and would spend the whole afternoon trying to assist his friend in making a better creature. Today, this appeared to be the game plan. However, it was more of a chore fending off Mabel than it was trying to plaster several different skull shards together for the debut the “Marrow Mangling Mutt” was supposed to make at 4, his sister insistent on trekking to an allegedly mermaid infested lake before the thunderstorms announced on this morning’s news were scheduled to hit.

“Just take Pacifica again.”

“She was already coming, but we want you to come, too, brosephina.”

Sighing but smiling, Dipper tapped Mabel gently on the head with the bone he was holding. “I can’t today. We can go tomorrow.”

“But I wanna go today.” Mabel slouched forward, emitting a pathetic whine.

“Well it’s either wait to do it with me, or go with Pacifica now. Your choice. And really I think you’d be excited for more alone time with her.”

“And what,” Mabel said accusingly, righting herself, “is that supposed to mean?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Dipper grinned, turning back to his work, leaving his sister to splutter and curse under her breath before stomping off in a huff, promising threats of, “I bet we’re gonna see something kickass, and you’re totally going to miss out.”

“Make sure you bring the notebook!” Dipper replied absently, once again immersing himself in the task of affixing a temporal plate in place of a mandible.

*

Mabel knew precisely what her brother meant, and though she’d not come to terms with her affections for Pacifica just yet, it was impossible to deny they existed and were becoming increasingly exacerbated by the romantic mood the pre-storm forest set as the girls picked their way along a deer trail. Turned inside out by the wind, every leaf stood out in bold relief against the darkening sky, glowing virescent where sunlight managed to puncture through intermittently. The evergreens, their needles far sturdier, contented themselves to rustling quietly, a harmonious hush against the din of cicadas.

"How far is the lake again?" Pacifica asked, eyeing the turbid clouds warily.

"I think like a mile or something. Can't quite remember, cause Grunkle Ford only mentioned it like once but - " Mabel paused and whipped out the cheap compass she'd snitched from the gift shop. "So long as we keep heading southeast, we should find it."

"That's a really unreliable heading, hon, are you sure you don't want to try this another day?"

"Aw boo, babe, you're starting to sound like Dipper."

"The day I start acting like that dork," Pacifica said, "is the day I pitch myself off the water tower."

"Guess I'm gonna have to never ever leave you alone forever to make sure you don't," Mabel teased, noting the way her friend feigned coughing into her elbow to hide a smile.

"How terrible for me."

"The worst." Mabel agreed.

Conversation tapering off, they walked in the quiet company of one another's footfalls, Mabel making it a point to slam her heel down on any pine cones or leaves that looked especially brittle.

They didn't stay silent for long.

"You know what's funny?"

"Your mom?"

Electing to ignore that, Pacifica continued, "This same time last year, we were mortal enemies. Now look at us."

"I think that anniversary is _next_ week."

"You know what I mean."

"Oh do I?" Mabel cocked her head and stuck out her tongue. "Am I a mind reader now?"

Letting go the branch she'd been holding aside, Pacifica smirked triumphantly as it swatted Mabel in the arm.

"Ow! _Binch_ ," the girl groused, brandishing a fist. "You have ignited the flame of war once more, prepare for retaliation!"

Pacifica patted Mabel's head. "I'll take my chances, hon."

The path was narrowing now, and Pacifica took the lead, making it impossible for Mabel to ignore the swing of her hips and the resulting somersaults her stomach performed in response. This was the first crush she'd nursed in a long time, and she had no idea how it was supposed to work when it was on another girl (hence the awful banter). But then, Pacifica wasn't just another girl...

A loud buzz startled nerves of another kind, and she dug out her phone to see that Grenda had texted a picture of her and Candy and Waddles, all sporting exaggerated expressions of despair with the attached message " _u went to find mermaids without us???_ " A second message, this time from Candy saying she knew what was up "* _wink_ *" and not to worry, she would calm Grenda down.

" _Nothing’s going on, fight meme,_ " Mabel replied before turning off her phone and stuffing it away.

"Who was that?" Pacifica asked.

"Nobody." Mabel grinned to herself, grateful that the path once again widened enough for her to walk side by side with her friend. And maybe, hopefully, possibly? a little voice at the back of her mind said, more than a friend, because damn if it didn't feel awesome to be getting back into her old Mabel-y ways even if she hadn’t the faintest inkling of what she was getting herself into.

  
*

"There. Done." Wiping his hands on his jeans, Dipper stood back and admired his handiwork, the "Marrow Mangling Mutt" truly a terror worthy of the Mystery Shack's clientele. Making sure one final time that the skeleton was balanced properly, he snapped a picture and then began to look for Soos, wondering if there were any other projects that needed an expert eye.

Save for the sounds of hollow wind creeping in from the outside, the Shack was completely still; the lack of bustling customers and discreetly slacking employees making Dipper even more leery as he poked around. After a week jammed packed with outings and quality time with friends, it was almost jarring how alone he suddenly was even if Soos and Melody were somewhere in the building. Although not somewhere he was looking, the Shack apparently devoid of either's comforting presence.

  
Deciding they’d probably gone out for a while, he made to go upstairs to the attic and continue work on the Pixely entry when a loud crash and shout sounded from the gift shop. Sprinting in at top speed, Dipper was met with the sight of a very sheepish Candy and Grenda, the former trying to right a stand of postcards the latter had undoubtedly knocked over.

  
“Is Mabel here?” Grenda greeted.

  
“Hello to you, too, and no,” Dipper said, wincing as Candy almost bumped into the “Mutt”.

  
“Where’s homegirl at, then?”

  
“Can you just - step away - there, thanks, and she and Pacifica went to go find mermaids. I thought she would have told you?”

  
“No texts from her since this morning.” Candy shoved her flip phone into his face to prove her point.

  
“Did you say mermaids?” Grenda gasped. “And she didn’t _tell us_? We’re gonna go find her right now, c’mon, Candy.”

  
“They left, like, an hour ago. I don’t think you’ll catch up in time.

  
“You can wait here until she gets back if you want,” Dipper added, ushering them out of the gift shop. Waddles, who had been asleep on the living room floor, came snuffling up, and the girls immediately began showering the pig in affection.

  
“Yes,” Candy confirmed between coos, “we will stay here with Waddles.”

  
“Alright, I’ll,” Dipper motioned behind him, “be in my room if you need anything.”

  
Already occupied with taking as many selfies as humanly possible, the girls barely took notice as Dipper slipped up to the attic where he gathered up his micro pens and “strictly for chewing on” ballpoints and hunkered down at his desk.

  
Producing the black journal from the top drawer, he set it cautiously on the desk, arranged the pens on either side, and sat back in his chair and considered it though it were a specimen all its own, it’s slightly warped binding the skin of a tempestuous animal biding its time for the past eight months.

  
And he still didn’t know how to feel about it.

  
Somewhere amongst Mabel’s stash on the other side of the room were a dozen or so each cutouts of the zodiac symbols from last summer, the inconspicuous images that symbolized ultimate power - power that had, ultimately, been useless. They were to go on on the cover once the twins worked out the proper sizes and colors. It was symbolic protection, they both agreed, because as long as they all had each other, no harm could come.

  
At least not physically.

  
Sighing heavily, Dipper mashed the heels of his hands into his eyes, the flashes of white the pressure from his palms elicited far more preferable to the black empty nothingness of the journal, a nothingness he had meant to fill a long time ago but knew he never could.

  
“Stupid,” he muttered. “Stupid, stupid, stu-”

  
A vicious crack of thunder tore the rest of the word to pieces, and he bolted in his seat, vision refocusing only to be met with a blinding lash of lightning illuminating the entire room. Hurrying to the window, he cursed at the sight of the roiling sky, the silhouette of treetops swaying dangerously in the wind barely visible against the bruised clouds. A few splatters of rain struck the glass with a vengeful promise of more to come, prompting Dipper to type out a string of texts to Mabel at record speed, telling her and Pacifica to come home immediately.

  
One, two, three minutes passed with thunder growling every thirty seconds, precisely.

  
After three and a half minutes without a reply, Dipper abandoned his reservations and dashed around the room, hastily donning his boots and jacket.

  
Pausing only to tell Mabel he was coming to find her (he prayed she would at least see this text), he raced out of the room just as another splinter of lighting gouged the sky.

  
Had he looked back, Dipper might have seen this spidery bolt burning brighter than the sun and illuminating the window, tracing its three sides and angles, caressing the glass, almost.

  
But he was already halfway down the stairs.

  
Skipping the last three steps, he jumped harshly onto the landing and hissed as stinging vibrations trickled up his calves.

  
“Yo,” Grenda emerged from the kitchen with Candy and Waddles peering behind her back. “What’s up with you?”

  
“Has Mabel texted you?” If he’d been right about Pacifica, then of course Mabel would ignore messages from him, but her girls were another matter, so maybe, just maybe, his worry was unfounded after all.

  
“About ten minutes ago, yes.” Candy pursed her lips and adjusted her glasses. “Is she okay?”

  
“Can you guys text her again?”

  
“Um, yeah, sure. Something wrong?”

  
“Just please text her,” Dipper iterated, chewing his lip as he waited for the girls to comply.

  
“Mkay, weirdo,” Grenda shrugged, both her and Candy taking out their phones.

  
There was a flurry of clicks and ticks as the girls attacked their respective keypads and then shaky silence for another two minutes, a soundlessness that made Dipper increasingly anxious with each second that slithered by.

  
“I’m not waiting anymore,” he muttered to himself after another far too long lapse of time with no word from his sister, but Grenda and Candy must have heard, because they jogged after him as he made a beeline for the door.

  
“Hey! You never told us if something’s wrong!”

  
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Just stay here, I’ll be right back. And text me the second Mabel texts you, got it?”

  
“Sure just - “

  
Dipper didn’t catch the rest of what Candy said, was already out the door and sprinting across the yard, hair blowing back from his forehead as the wind scraped over his birthmark. He winced, but pressed on, pulling on a vague recollection of this lake Ford had shown him on a map one time. If his memory served correctly, he would have to take trailhead three to set himself on the right course, and he bolted into the brush. As he did so, the sky growled again, the soil shaking under his sneakers.

  
He didn’t notice, every fiber of his concentration zeroing in on images of Mabel lost or hurt or worse. He didn’t know what worse might entail, but, he insisted to himself despite his hope decaying with every flick of lighting, punch of thunder, and prick of rain, he wasn’t going to find out, because he was going to get to Mabel and Pacifica before anything like that could befall them.

  
With this foolhardy optimism, his resolve steadied, and he picked up his pace.

  
If only he knew what he was running to, he might have turned back, but he didn’t, so he pushed on faster and deeper into the dark, thick nettles and poison ivy, clinging to a desperate hope Mabel was okay and her phone was just acting up.

  
He was right, of course, but only on one account.

  
*

  
“We’re lost. _Shit_ we are so _lost_.”

  
“No, we’re not, I told you this is the right way.”

  
“We’ve passed that stump three times, Mabel!”

  
Stopping in her tracks, Mabel rubbed her eyes and breathed deeply before turning around to face Pacifica. The storm was picking up around them, and it tossed the folds of her friend’s blouse violently, the fabric billowing silver and shimmery through the air as it caught the last pale streaks of sun struggling through the bulging clouds.

  
“Even if we did see that stump already, at least we’re not completely losing our bearing.”

  
“So you admit we’re lost.”

  
Mabel paused and sucked in a sharp breath, turning around and placing her hands on Pacifica’s shoulders.

  
“I’m gonna get us home before the storm hits, okay? You just need to put a little faith in me.”

  
Though she nodded, a look of blatant indecision crossed Pacifica’s features, and Mabel was about to repeat her reassurances, but she wasn’t given the chance, her friend leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss to her lips, stealing the air from her lungs in a surprised gasp.

  
“I…” Mabel pulled away, her mouth half open and tingling from the sensation of Pacifica’s soft, thin lips, blinking like she couldn’t see properly. But she could, especially the girl before her wearing an equally baffled expression as her hair floated about her face, an angelic glow against the dark forest.

  
“Paz, I - ”

  
Again, she was interrupted, but not by the sweet warmth of a kiss. Instead, her words dissolved within a bone masticating percussion of thunder, and the girls yelped and clutched each other close as the sky opened up and poured down ice.

  
A moment of confusion and panic seized them both, but Mabel was quick to recover, yanking off her backpack, digging out the picnic blanket she’d packed, and gathering Pacifica underneath it with her.

  
“We need to find shelter right now!” She yelled over the incensed roar of hail, her fingers stinging where they clutched the blanket unprotected.

  
“No shit, Sherlock!” Pacifica replied, but there was no time for Mabel to pause and figure out whether that was a joke or if her friend was genuinely angry.

  
Right now, she needed to get them out of the hail, but there was nowhere in the vicinity that offered the necessary protection, and even she was smart enough to know you don’t huddle under trees when there’s lightning.

  
“Come on, this way!” She tugged Pacifica to the right of the stump they had, in fact, passed three times over, and away from the deer trail they’d been following the past half hour. If her friend was right, there was no point in continuing on that path, and she was fairly certain this way was north which was a better heading than nothing at all. If only there was cell signal, she could just check her gps. The compass from the gift shop had long since been lost due to her negligence, so they were completely directionless.

  
They had to keep going nonetheless, and even if they didn’t make it back to the Shack, she could still recognize caves and burrows of friendly creatures that would gladly take them in while the the storm blew over.

  
But as they hurried on, feet slipping and tripping and soaking to the bone, the forest grew less and less forgiving, the branches above seeming to purposely separate with every gust of wind, pulled apart by indiscernible fingers to let the hail pummel their raw hands and cheeks.

  
“Where are we even going!” Pacifica cried.

  
“I don’t know,” Mabel shouted back. “Just stay close!”

  
She could see nothing as they ran, vision blurred by the hail and the lashing foliage, but by some miracle (or, as she would later come to realize, misfortune) they managed to keep from running into the black, groaning trunks of the redwoods, forging onward at a steady clip.

  
Despite this determination, they made very little headway, their bearings growing increasingly skewed as they continuously paused to catch their breath and nurse their raw fingers. In only a matter of ten minutes, Mabel realized they were not going to make it out of the storm let alone to the Shack. They would just have to weather the barrage of ice and wind and rain and pray that it let up soon.

  
“Well let’s _try_ to find _some_ kind of shelter!” Pacifica countered when Mabel voiced these concerns.

  
“Yeah I know!” Mabel cast about, trying to discern any kind of viable covering, but there were only the trees with their roots plump and poised for a lightning strike.

  
Abruptly, as though borne of this thought, the skin all the way from the backs of Mabel’s heels up to the nape of her skull jumped and tightened as something without discernible temperature seized her body in a fit of stinging gooseflesh.

  
There was only a second to realize what was happening, a hairline fracture of opportunity for Mabel to pull Pacifica to her chest as she leapt for safety before a tree not twenty feet to their right erupted in a plume of white and blue, impaling the surrounding air with splintered daggers of blackened cork and charred bark.

  
“Holy sh-!”

  
A second tree ruptured, closer this time, enough for the girls to feel the heat melt the watery slush stuck in their hair.

  
“Mabel!”

  
“Paz!”

  
The former scrambled to her feet as the latter tried to do the same only to be thrown down again in a fit of terror as a third tree was reduced to a crevice of its former self.

  
“What’s going on!” Pacifica pleaded for an answer Mabel didn’t have, the girl equally baffled by the violent turn of events. Remarkably, she was composed enough to still be able to grab her friend, hoist her to her feet, and run as fast as their paces could coordinate away from the carcasses of the redwoods behind them.

  
They didn’t flee far, however, not far enough before another bolt struck an evergreen just ahead, forcing the girls to backpedal and veer left, and then right as a sapling birch dropped to its knotty knees.

  
“What’s happening!” Pacifica cried a second time as though Mabel had any more answers than she did ten seconds prior.

  
“Just stay close! I’m gonna get us out of here!”

  
But even Mabel didn’t believe this, her heart in her throat as her veins leaked fight or flight toxins. Something dangerous, something sinister was afoot, and she feared they might not escape unscathed.

  
Nonetheless, she tore madcap away from every sizzling bolt of electricity that threatened them, dragging Pacifica with her and trying to find a recognizable trail or burrow, _anything_ that might mark their whereabouts.

  
They ran for so long that eventually the stabs of lightning dulled to pinpricks in her periphery, and it was only a matter of inevitability that they pushed themselves to the brink of exhaustion, their knees and shins and lungs cramping and sagging and wobbling, bodies slogged with coagulating adrenaline.

  
“I can’t-” Pacifica’s grip slackened and then disappeared altogether, forcing Mabel to skid to a halt.

  
“Mabel,” Pacifica wheezed as she doubled over, clasping her quaking legs for whatever meager support they could offer. “I can’t. Run. Anymore. I n-need, I-”

  
The wind caterwauled, wrenching anything unfortunate enough to lack a firm grip on the ground skyward including the picnic blanket as Mabel tried to re-wrap it over Pacifica.

  
“ _Shit_!” She cursed, but the wind stole that, too.

  
The wind, the hail, the lightning, the rain... Everything was hell bent on beating the girls into the mud.

  
But relief didn’t come to those who stood out in an ice and electricity storm waiting to get burnt to a frozen crisp. This had been Mabel’s idea in the first place, and it was her responsibility to see them safely home.

  
Wiping her soaked eyelashes with the back of her hand, she spared a second to see which way they should continue and grabbed Pacifica by the arm.

  
“There’s no time for whiny bullshit!” She barked over her shoulder as her friend began to protest. “Do you wanna get killed? No? Then keep up with me, cause I’m getting us out of here!”

  
Vigor renewed, Mabel found she was able to maneuver the forest with greater agility. The trees had ceased beckoning to every bolt of lightning within their immediate radius, and it was actually easier to avoid debris and slashing branches without the blanket falling over their eyes or throwing them backwards when it got caught in an updraft. The hail still pummeled them mercilessly, but they were numb from the cold, so they hardly felt it anymore. Whether that was good or not was up for a debate Mabel didn't presently care to engage in, but hope returned as a looming shape came into view a few hundred yards ahead, a boulder she vaguely recognized from a map in Journal 2.

  
“I think I know where we are!” She said. “I think this is the way to the lake!”

  
“The _lake_?!” Pacifica exclaimed, dismay saturating her tone.

  
“Which means we aren’t lost,” Mabel clarified, nearly slipping in her haste to reach the landmark. “We can ask the mermaids for help!”

  
“What?” Pacifica yelled as she hurried after Mabel.

  
“I said the mermaids can help us! Now come on!”

  
So relieved by the prospect of reaching safety, the girls failed to notice at first the abrupt still in the air, the startling lack of wind and grateful groans from the trees as their aching limbs settled back down. But the moment they reached and then rounded the boulder, reality crept back in and took hold of the invisible leads latched to their optimism, reigning it in with a cruel yank.

  
Because, instead of a pristine lake teeming with merpeople, they were faced with ever more forest, a thick abundance of withering pines so old and weak and warped, their branches curled into each other as a disused trail limped its way between their grey trunks.

  
“Where’s the lake?” Pacifica asked, her hushed voice echoing in the wake of the now vanished wind and lightning.

  
“I - it - it must be through here,” Mabel said, wracking her brain, trying to remember the specifics of the Journal’s map. “Yeah, it has to be. I know that’s the right rock. Come on.”

  
Hands once again intertwined, the girls pressed on, grateful for the shelter the canopied branches offered from the hail, but wary and cautious, too.

  
“Mabel?” Pacifica whispered, curiously audible enough over the chittering hail.

  
“What?”

  
Pacifica paused again, but when Mabel turned with an exasperated sigh, her annoyance promptly deflated upon seeing her friend stood stock still, clutching nigh desperately at her arms and shivering like she would never be warm again.

  
“Hey. Whoa, hey what’s wrong?” Rushing to Pacifica’s aid, Mabel hugged her and rubbed her back fiercely.

  
“I d-don’t feel good,” Pacifica mumbled.

  
Well of course not, Mabel mentally berated herself. A Northwest, of all people, wouldn’t be able to endure a light drizzle let alone a storm of this magnitude. She was even feeling a bit peaked, herself, feet and fingertips numb with a hot knot forming center-skull that was just waiting to loosen into pure agony.

  
“I’m so sorry,” was all she could say, however, all she could presently think of, and, “I promise when we get back to the Shack, I’ll make you some extra chocolatey cocoa, and I’ll make Soos get you some of those stupid vegan marshmallows from the specialty shop in town.”

  
This earned a laugh, but it faltered into a coughing fit and a full body shiver that made Mabel squeeze her even tighter.

  
“My head hurts, Mabes,” Pacifica sighed, resting her cheek against her friend’s chest. “I’m tired.”

  
“I know, I know,” Mabel spoke softly into Pacifica's softer hair. “Only a little bit more. We’ll get to the lake, and then you can rest, okay?”

  
Just barely nodding, Pacifica slowly lifted her head and met Mabel’s worried gaze with a sleepy smile.

  
“Well that’s just not fair,” Mabel quipped, poking her friend’s nose. “How the heck do you still look so good after I literally drag you through this hell forest?”

  
“You look nice, too, Mabes.”

  
Not wanting to break the spell of their shared ridiculousness but knowing full well they had to keep moving, Mabel pressed a quick kiss to Pacifica’s lips and pulled back.

  
“C-can I at least have your sweater?” Pacifica said, hunched again in an attempt to conserve heat.

  
“It’s damp, but yeah. Hang on.” Stripping off her sweater, the red one with an hourglass emblazoned on the front, Mabel suppressed the urge to wince as the biting air came in contact with her newly exposed skin.

  
“Thanks,” Pacifica smiled again and pulled the jumper over her head.

  
“All good then?”

  
Pacifica nodded and threaded her fingers into Mabel’s right hand. “Yeah, you’re the best, Mabes.”

  
“You say that, but you’re sick because of me, doofus. Also what’s with this ‘Mabes’ stuff? Since when do you call me that?”

  
“Don’t you like it?”

  
“It’s totally gay, man.”

  
Pacifica bumped Mabel’s hip with hers as they started walking again into the calm, dead trees.

  
“So are you.”

  
“Touché.”

  
Despite her outward blitheness, this was all merely idle chatter. Really, there was only one thing on Mabel’s mind, a nagging, tugging, cajoling thought that teased at her blooming headache.

  
And it was that they had to get to the lake.

  
The weather wouldn’t hold out for much longer, the night was creeping in, and hail appeared to be ceaseless. If they didn’t find it soon, well… She didn’t want to consider that. All she knew was they _had_ to get to the lake.

  
They _must_.

  
*

  
The darker the sky became, the faster Dipper ran until he and the clouds were neck and neck in a race to Mabel, the winner of which was impossible to wager any kind of bet on. They were both desperate to reach her but for reasons that could not be more opposite if they tried, and, truth be told, the sky was hardly trying at all. As stinging oxygen pounded through Dipper’s lungs and burning blood coursed through his legs, the thin _tip-tip-taps_ of rain on his cheeks mocked him, reminding him every crashing footfall of the way he was probably no closer to his sister than he had been when he was safe in the Shack.

  
And he was _petrified_ for her safety. Storms like this didn’t hit often, storms with boiling, purple clouds and black sheets of rain off in the distance. It wasn’t natural, and he’d dealt with enough of the supernatural to know something was severely amiss, and had he just gone with Mabel in the first place -

  
_No_! No, he couldn’t let those thoughts in; it wasn’t the time.

  
And given that time was more sensitive than a live wire right now, he couldn’t afford to waste any of it.

  
How much had he already done away with, though? Talking with Candy and Grenda? Stopping to check that his compass heading was correct? How long had he been out? Ten minutes? Twenty?

  
Distracted by his ever mounting anxiety, Dipper noticed only too late as a thread of lightning skittered down from the sky, skipping along with the sudden deluge of raindrops and gnashing hail to caress its fingers into the foliage of a stately oak not fifty feet away. It was over in a shutter-flash of a second, his eyelids the inadequate camera to the spectacular sight of the blue bolt stabbing right through the heart of the trunk, but the resounding repercussions bulged in his eardrums and bones for an eternity comprised entirely of pain and shock.

  
Knocked down by the force of the explosion, he landed face first in the mud, front teeth clashing angrily against a rock hidden in the slimy moss and dirt. At first there was a cool, jittery ache piercing down to the roots of his jaw, then the soothing warmth of fresh blood leaking between gum and bone, but the only response he could muster to such incredible anguish was a feeble cry. That, too, was lost in the roar of wind and thunder and rain, and though his body begged him to lie there, curl up and slip away until the storm and the blood and the pain passed…

  
_Mabel_.

  
There was still Mabel.

  
And he _had_ to find her.

  
Despite every nerve screaming in protest, he managed himself onto his hands, then his knees, and finally, his feet. Staggering a moment, he finally steadied himself, standing like a determined rag doll as ice beat upon his head and shoulders.

  
“ _Dammit_ ,” he cursed, grimacing as blood dribbled down his chin. Spitting out a gob of gore and saliva, he pulled out his thankfully undamaged phone and, shielding it as best he could from the sleet, opened his gps to reorient himself.

  
“Dammit!” He yelled as the app informed him there was no signal.

  
Stumbling a few steps to his right, then left, then in a circle and back again, he tried to get even a single bar, but his phone remained resolutely useless.

  
“No no. C’mon, dammit, work!” He cried, quite literally, too, lukewarm tears dripping onto his cold cheeks.

  
Thunder cackled in response, and Dipper trembled with the trees.

  
“Please, _please_ ,” he muttered woefully as he pursued the only direction that looked clear enough to traverse. “God, please, _please_ work.”

  
He was soaked to the core now, bruised teeth clacking together, but he trudged on, praying over and over for a signal, from his phone, from Mabel. Hell, from the _trees_ ev-

  
“Ha!” He cried out victoriously as the app refreshed and-

  
Suddenly he saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing but the sensation of floating.

  
And then the kick of earth to his backside as gravity stole him again.

  
Air scoured from his chest.

  
Skeleton convulsing in one, giant pulse like a singular, organic heartbeat.

  
A response was impossible, unallowed as cement seized him again and propelled his unwilling body upward, downward, beating the world back into his eyes.

  
Ahead, he saw two, black spikes, carved sideways from the earth, much like the trees that also stuck out incorrectly, but, no, they weren’t wrong. _He_ was wrong, lying on his side with one ear to the earth as though listening for _its_ heartbeat.

  
He had to get up, and, by some miracle (or, as he would later come to realize, misfortune), he did, lurching toward the still incorrect black spikes. The other trees righted themselves when he had, but these two… something was _wrong_.

  
He immediately found out why. At the same time, he found himself tossed on his tailbone as a white crack spat down from the sky and stripped a nearby maple clean before recoiling into the clouds.

  
_Shit_ , he thought vaguely, blinking slowly and moving even slower.

  
Another bolt, another blow to the chest that sent him sailing further backwards. This time, however, his head crashed against a half decayed log, snapping him out of his daze, hopefully without doing too much damage.

  
And he finally understood what damage was being done.

  
“Shit!” Scrambling to his feet, he teetered in a circle as the air held its breath. He recognized this feeling of malicious anticipation and turned tail and sprinted into the trees just as another hiss of ozone and electricity stripped the bark from a poplar.

  
He didn’t think as he ran, not about where he was or where he was going, not about why he’d almost been electrocuted three times in a row. Truth be told, though, he didn’t care. He was terrified, wheezing through a blood and tear slick mouth that kept trying to scream but couldn’t find enough air...

  
_Help_ , he wanted to say.

  
_Mabel_ , he wanted to plead.

  
But all he could do was run, rip aside foliage and branches, swipe at his burning eyes, grimace as the hail scraped his face.

  
But it was only a matter of inevitability that he pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion, his knees and shins and lungs cramping and sagging and wobbling, body slogged with coagulating adrenaline.

  
“I can’t-” His words slackened and then disappeared altogether as he staggered to a halt.

  
“Mabel,” he wheezed, doubling over and clasping his quaking legs for whatever meager support they could offer. “I can’t. I c-can’t…”

  
The wind interrupted with a shriek of laughter.

  
“Mabel," he said louder, but the wind stole that, too.

  
Everything, it seemed, was hell bent on stealing things from him.

  
But relief didn’t come to those who stood out in an ice and electricity storm waiting to get burnt to a frozen crisp. This had been his idea in the first place, telling his sister to go out on her own, and it was his responsibility to find her and bring her home.

  
Wiping his soaked eyelashes with the back of her hand, he tried to see which way he should continue. Through the thick curtain of ice and rain, he discerned almost nothing, and he almost cried out in frustration.

  
“There’s no time for whiny bullshit.” He told himself. “You need to find Mabel.”

  
Vigor renewed, if only just so, Dipper found his vision to be not entirely useless if he shielded his eyes. This way, he managed to convince his blistered feet to keep moving. It wasn’t easy, the hail still struck him cruelly, but he was so numb from the cold and the persistent ache of being tossed around that he hardly felt much of anything. Whether that was good or not, he didn’t care; all that mattered was finding Mabel.

  
And, as a blessed turn of luck seemed to have it, he might find her sooner and easier than anticipated, a familiar shape looming out of the shadowy rain just a few yards ahead. Almost laughing in his hysterical relief, Dipper recognized the skeleton of the evergreen from Ford’s Journal, just beyond which lay a grove of sad, drooping pines where the head of a trail beckoned. He didn’t recall the grove, but this was definitely the right tree, one of three markers which sat circumferential the boundary line of the mermaid’s lake.

  
And that’s where Mabel was. He _knew_ it.

  
“Thank, _God_ ,” he breathed, gimping first to the tree where he spared a second to compose himself, and then to the trail where he laughed again upon seeing how the branches were so closely knit to prevent even the smallest chunks of hail from permeating their yellow needles.

  
Glancing over his shoulder, he threw the tree that had, in his humble and half lucid opinion, saved his life, a thumbs up before forging forward to find his sister.

  
The tree, of course, did not respond. It was merely a simple plant that had met a sad fate, a martyr and marker for those who wished to engage a similar end. For had Dipper paid closer attention, he might have smelled the fresh scent of scorched wood, seen the smoke still struggling off the peeling bark of the tree, but the rain masked these details impeccably, and Dipper was never one to distrust a pine, after all.

  
-

  
The paths the Pines twins followed were not unlike themselves, identical, misused, barren in places and choked with weeds in others.

  
Twisted.

  
_Twisting_.

  
Winding through the trees until it felt like bearing and direction were myths they were just too skeptical to believe.

  
They pursued nonetheless, both of them convinced of their final destination, though, as they would later recall in the blood and tear soaked clutches of each other’s near lifeless embraces, this was only the beginning.

  
But this wasn’t later. This was present, and they followed obediently, perhaps not as quickly as they could, but they had put up with quite the beating.

  
And they would endure many more.

  
But they had to reach their perceived ends first - this magical lake with magical mermaids, its location foretold to them by boulders and trees, two of nature’s most impressionable items. All it took was a little rain to obscure clarity, and a little lightning to make sure everything and everyone acted accordingly.

  
And they were both so _close_ , Shooting Star cajoling her friend along, the two in far higher spirits than Pine Tree, though he was remarkably less dour than he’d been for the past hour. In fact, both twins were faring mentally better than they had the entire year.

  
How odd.

  
And   _l u f r e d n o w ._

  
Oh this was going to be   _n u f ._

  
And they just needed a little bit more, to come a little bit further.

  
Frantic footfalls on slimy pine needles, heavy breaths that curled into dirty fog…

 

. . . _e r e h t    t s o m l a ,    s e y    s e Y_

  
They broke the tree line at exactly the same time, facing across from each other, _exactly_.

_. t c e f r e P_

  
Standing in awkward bewilderment, at first they didn’t realize, were too confused by the mound of grass and nettles and decayed branches sitting at the center of the glade where a pristine, mermaid-infested lake should be. The confusion simultaneously grew and shrank as Shooting Star and Pine Tree saw one another.

  
And then...

  
(And then?)

  
Well...

  
Nothing.

  
Nothing as the branches overhead shriveled into sawdust and loosed upon the Pines and Northwest a maelstrom of sleet and debris.

  
Nothing as thunder shredded their screams.

  
Nothing as lightning delicately embroidered the swollen sky before falling, racing, piercing, gouging,   _b u r n i n g_    into the center of the glade and blasting apart the stone buried, hidden, _w a i t i n g_ within.

  
Nothing as the three pathetic pawns trying to run for one another’s comfort were blasted to the ground, struck unconscious, rendered meek and helpless and prone at his mercy.

  
Nothing, nothing,   _n o t h i n g_   but the beginning of sweet, glorious,   _d e l i c i o u s_   revenge.

  
And after a year spent imprisoned in decaying rock, he was   _s t a r v e d_ for it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am STUPIDLY excited for the next chapter because I get to introduce someone I've been dying to tell yall about since I started this. It's gonna be _lit _.__


	5. A Little Journey Through The UknownwoknU hguorhT yenruoJ elttiL A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve damned Eden. Mad Eve!  
> R e v e r e d n o w I l i v e o n .  
> O d i d I d o n o e v i l , I w o n d e r e v e r ?  
> No word, no bond, row on.
> 
>  
> 
> (R a c e c a r !)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been, what, 7 months? Nice. I'm a professional update-er. Hell yeah. Idk how many of you are all left that still read gf fanfic but, hopefully this will get some notice. Hope ya enjoy. Lemme know in the comments if you did <3
> 
> (This is also severely unbeta'd, so at least that hasn't changed lol)

When Dipper and Mabel were around seven years old, they both developed a deeply irrational and entirely inexplicable fear of quicksand. They’d neither watched a movie nor read a book depicting anything that might have triggered this phobia, and yet it plagued them all the same. It became so pervasive, they ceased even playing in the sandbox at school. The resident bully was elated with this, of course, and delighted in throwing sand at the twins whenever the teacher wasn’t looking. Then one day, he took things too far, dumped an entire pail on Dipper’s head, and Mabel just wasn’t having that. Later, her parents confided they were very impressed that she was able to get the offending bucket jammed over such a fat head, though, for the sake of appearances, they scolded her accordingly in front of the principal.

After that incident, the twins’ fear slowly resigned itself to an afterthought.

But now?

Now it was the only thought they had, a seizing, panicked desperation as slow, slurred consciousness feebly attempted to claw itself from the sludge of its own coagulated incoherencies. Sticky grains of sounds and sights lodged under their mental fingernails, promising to infect the deeper they gouged while grey and black lashed itself to everything with a suction threatening to pull them under.

It was a colorless quicksand that gripped between their ears, and, with a slick yank, submerged them in a gritty oblivion, filling their screams with silence that resonated on shockwaves of transcendent horror.

They reached out for one another, but skin and bone and sinew had already dissolved away, presumably to rejoin the sand, but they had no idea, really.

What they _did_ have was nothing. No body, no screams.

No _idea_ …

They had the quicksand, too, as did it, them, and it wrenched and pulled in torrents of nightmarish ooze that they could feel with sickening intimacy despite their presumed lack of corporeality.

And what a _pity_ these preconceived notions.

But that would catch up with them later.

Now?

Now it was finally time...

-

  
Mabel awoke first - _escaped_ first from the mires of her own mind to the mires of another.

But she didn’t know that quite yet.

Not yet as her eyelids tore away their own shrouding darkness only to reveal a similarly colorless void beyond. Not yet as her pupils dilated near to eclipsing irises drowning in fear that welled and beaded in the brittle clumps of her red rimmed eyelashes.

Not yet as whimpers punctured her lungs and pricks of pain teased her arms and legs, her spine and skull, her skin and organs.

Not yet as comprehension swam asynchronous laps with her senses, senses she used to trust - _touch, sight, smell, sound, taste_ , but none were working correctly, so she couldn’t trust them.  
.̨̮͓̙̗͆ͫ͊̋͋̑̈́ͤ͒̍̒͑̃͑̃͂̃͞ ͇͇̥̫̩͉̣̹̺̙̳ͭ͋̒̅̎͗͌͊̾ͬ̋ͣ̈͋̍̏̐̈̀͜͝e̡̻̺̜̙͖͉̱̣͙͎͙̩̮͇̻̥̳͈͕͛̋̽ͭ̀̒ͫ̓͢͜͠ ̴̧̨̧̥͚͇̹̝͎̮͖͎͕͉͎̭̳͇͔̄̈̓̈͐̃͐̿̉̓̋̐ͪͅn̍̐͊̊ͫͪͩ͗ͯ҉͜͏̦̖̠͈̞̯̗̬̩̣̗̀͠ͅ ̿ͤ̊̍̓͐̚҉̨̧̧̺̗̞͙̣̪̬̗̮͍̣͈̜̬̹̬̀o̸̡̳͉͙̺̘͓̭̖͇̬̖̲͓͚͉͂͛̌ͨͧͯͧ̒͢͝ ̧͍̦͍̮̱̥̮̙͍̫̘͋ͨ̉ͩ͆ͨ̍̽̿̆ͭͩ̏̌̇͆͡ ̄̍̽͐́̐̽̂ͥ́̈̌͊́̕͢͏͔̥̗̙̗͇̪̥̝̱͕͉̫̗̫ ̸̹̻͎̳͕͇͈̹̰͚ͣ̅ͩͦ̐̉̾̊ͩ̏̒ͦ̎̀́̔͊͜͞ǫ̴̢͍͎̗͇̰̪͎̼̩̐̊ͣ̈́̎ ͉͖̪̘͔̺̠͍̱̝͈̠̭̥̺̦͊̓̄ͥͩ̇̉ͤ̔͌ͫͮͧ̑͑̉́͞n̛̦͎̺̝͈͙̠͉̥̤̦ͯ͒͛̚̕ ̛̹͙̫͈͎͂ͬ̂ͭͣͪ͗͑͜ ̵̶̵̭͚̦̖̞̺͕͖̮͔͔̪̘̹ͥ̄̓͆͂̕ ͋̈́̂ͬ̔ͬͯͤ̓ͬ͏̠̦͚͓͍̰̱̙̘͍̱̝͢͞t̙̳̟͈̭̻̝̩̟͆̊͐̈́͟ ͯ́̃ͫ̑ͪ̏͆̅͑͂͌ͭ͑͗̀͏̨̢̣̼̜̳̩̜̩̠͍̳͎̦͈͔̬s̶̡̛͓̯͙̭͂ͫ̇̌̿͛͒̎ͅ ̈̍̑ͤ͋̋͛҉̷̶̡̹̩͔̟̙̰͟ụ̵̧̧̥͎̣̩͉͎̭͇̥̬̩͙̂̒̓̎̌̄ͫͭ̋̅̌ͧ̑͒ͨ́́̚ͅͅ ̅͊̎̈̚͏̧̫̫͚͇̭̠̖̖͓́r̶͗͒̒ͨ̓́͏̶͔̼̯̥̠̩͍̗̙̪̬̘̯̬̫ͅ ̸̢̖͉̫̻̺̪͔͓̭̠̖͕̮̝͒͛̌́͊̋͋̀̚ͅT̸̨̧̛̲͙̰͍̳̫̜̞̙͖̜͍̣͙ͩ̈́̓ͫͤ̓̾͢ͅͅ

But that wasn’t true. There was still faith, _hope_ , and it bled sticky relief into her parched veins as the silence faltered, a sound that ached in its helpless agony struggling to make itself heard.

To the left of her.

  
What _was_ left of her - by whatever form of hazy observation she still clung to - managed to reason this must mean someone was lying nearby. That is, if she was even lying down at all. It was a bit of a task trying to figure out her bodily position given the lack of cardinal indicators; all that was visible to her was a ceaseless, cinereal expanse tinged with a faint, green glow yawning for eons in front of her.

Or above her.

Below?

Perhaps looking around would shed some clarity, and she decided to turn her head to the left, just to see what was there.

Who was there.

Mason was there.

But it wasn’t.

That’s not...?

She blinked ferociously, so hard her eyes rattled in their sockets, nearly shattered, but Mason, his prone form, remained the same.

In that it remained hideously different.

Malformed.

A vague shape of a familiar brother coated in a wormy, grey texture.

A blue sarcophagus of light encased his sickly visage, casting malnourished shadows into the hollow features she had memorized since childhood.

But she had never seen this boy before in her life. Not this one.

Not _this_ one.

She had to find the real Dipper, the one suffocating inside these visual trickeries, these lies, these ä̷̮̺̯̤̩̱͉̫́̒͒̌̈́̎͠i̙͉̯̥̲͛́̇̓̾ͬ͊̕͘llusions.

By some miracle (or, as she and her brother would later come to appreciate, cosmic punchline), he was close enough that she could simply reach over and begin her task of scraping out the real Mason.

But nothing was ever that simple.

She realized -

reaching over -

and she was confused for a second, confused to see, not her own delicate, rotting keratin stretched over brittle calcium and marrow, but instead an appendage identical in build to her usual arm all slathered in wormy grey - rippling, too, with a sagging, swollen pink the same shade as her tonsils when the dentist’s eyes would salivate inside her gaping mouth. The same, delicious hue as her scars, the ones freshly healed and pleading to be peeled back again just for the sake of that proverbial cat.

She would have prayed for screams had she the opportunity -

“ _But you don’t believe in gods o d u o y_?”

but she didn’t know what to believe.

Least of all her own, traitorous ears swallowing hallucinogens like sound bites.

Or perhaps it was the reverse.

Irrelevant.

It’s not real.

None of this was.

Not the wormy grey with it’s infected, _infectious_ blue and pink.

Not her _not_ -self.

Not Dipper’s _not_ -self.

Not him.

Not _him._

_Not you not you notyou notyounotyounotyou_

“ _t c e r r o C_!” Not-him commended. “ _You’re so much more t n a v r e s b o than I give ya credit for. Though honestly, I was expecting Pine Tree to m a e r c s first_!”

Something snapped, and suddenly the boy lying next to her _was_ , shrieking and clawing blindly as giggles wriggled like parasites between Mabel’s ears. They were so loud, she couldn’t hear herself wailing for him to stop, to calm down, that she’s right here, that she has him. She couldn’t hear her own lies, could only discern the laughter and agonized wails that weakened to trembling whimpers as her twin succumbed in her feeble embrace, the creeping flesh of their entwining bare arms only marginally more comforting than the writhing air around them.

“ _Awww! Now ain’t that just e l b a r o d a! I can tell ya right now you two are gonna be doing t o l a of that in the future. Not that it’ll help, but I e v o l watching you try_!”

It suddenly struck Mabel, the intimacy of their peril. Though she couldn’t see him, his body never lagged too far from his voice. That was unless it’s in her mind again -

 _No_! The worst thing she could do right now was _think_. There’s no time, no safety in her mind. She had to act now, had to get her and Dipper out of here, _away_.

“ _Go_ ,” she rifled through her maelstrom mind in search of the right words to urge her brother to his feet, but it was damn near impossible with all the laughter ricocheting between her lobes and cortices.

“ _Please_ ,” she wheezed, tugging, pulling, wrenching at Dipper, his body the weight of death between her fingers.

“ _So polite_!” Commended that voice, much closer, now, but still directionless. “ _That’s usually s i h schtick though_.”

Abandoning her efforts to flee, Mabel clumsily gathered Dipper’s head in her lap and shielded his ears and eyes as she blinked furiously on smothering tears. This provided only minimal clarity to her already swimming vision, and even then all she could make out was the smudged, glass green fog clouding the rest of the world around her. No silhouettes slunk through the vagueness, no shadows or shapes.

Instead a flash.

Not direct, but off to her right, a slash of light through her periphery that stung raw like familiarity of razor gashes.

Crying more from shock than the pain, she ducked her head as low and close to Dipper’s as she could get it, wrapping her arms tightly around the both of them in whatever pantomime of safety they might provide.

“ _Already told ya! That ain’t gonna do it_!”

It was right above her, trickling and tripping down each air molecule to settle and prickle on her scalp. Her instincts got the better as one hand shot up to slap the back of her head, and it was just the window she had been trying to keep closed.

Abruptly, something cold, curved, and cruelly hard crashed against her exposed forehead, beating a web of shattered heat through her skull as she sprawled back. Somehow, through the pulse of her battered bones, she heard laughter - high, ground between too many canines giggles before a dull _thwack!_ informed her Dipper had just suffered similar abuses.

But it was far worse for him, not because of the pain (though he’d been bashed much harder than Mabel), but instead because it was the final nudge he needed to come back to consciousness, push himself upright and press a clammy palm to his temple and open his eyes.

His screams seemed to resonate ceaselessly, a dull echo about the clouded glade they were trapped in.

But the laughter transcended.

“ _That’s the first music to my ears in a long, long time, kiddo! Almost a  r a e y , I think_!”

Mabel wasn’t looking, but Dipper couldn’t stop, couldn’t gouge his gaze from the devil suspended in semi-translucent corporeality a meager two feet overhead. A moment ago, he was entirely unaware of anything. Now it was all too much.

“ _Wish I had a piano in here_ ,” that _fucking_ triangle continued, “ _but that request got  d e x a  ‘fore I could even ax_!

“ _Get it?_ ” He leers, a hand suddenly stretching down to grip Dipper’s chin as though he were a disobedient child. “ _Because ‘ask’ and ‘ax’ sound the same, and I got the  g n i k c u f   g n i p p o h c   k c o l b  thanks to you maggots_?”

Unseen forces commanded both twins this time, jerking their heads up, peeling back their eyelids, training their pinprick pupils solely on him.

“ _I’m being too kind, though_ ,” he said, words malicious with promise, and the hand still seizing Dipper’s jaw crushes ever tighter. “‘ _Cuz maggots are actually useful. They eat the dead, see, which is exactly what you’re going to do. Except by ‘eat’, I of course mean ‘resurrect’. Or assist in the labours of achieving universal enslavement with you two my puppets and purveyors of relentless suffering and slaughter,  t u b   s ’ t i   l l a   e h t   e m a s   n m a d   g n i h t   n i   e h t   d n e._ ”

The demon paused, barely opaque eye roaming from twin to twin and giving them a chance to really take in - _appreciate_ he would soon ensure - his new form.

Still a triangle.

Still three, slit your veins open like a knife through water sharp angles.

Still adorned with hat and tie and cane but…

But it was clearly not him.

Because Bill Cipher was not _clear_ , was not the self same smoggy slight-green this... dimension? world? _place_? was cast in. Because where yellow once nauseated now only when air thin glass caught the insubstantial lighting could they make out his shape.

It was still him.

It was still _him_.

But a facsimile, a less accommodating reconstruction of the Bill Cipher that had been blasted to bits by their Grunkle Stan.

“ _Ya like it_?” The triangle remarked, noting confusion intermingled with the twisting of their mouths, the struggle of their eyes to look _anywhere_ else.

“ _Cuz I sure as  k c u f  don’t_!” He continued, brandishing his cane again and sweeping it in a wide arc.

The head of it met bull’s eye with Mabel’s jaw, swiftly retracted, then piked Dipper in the ribs, and Bill howled with laughter as the twins wailed. As if they knew the first thing about _pain_.

He’d show them soon enough.

“ _You think I like what you did to me? Think I like being like  s i h t_ ?”

Once again, he commanded their sight through bruised tears and white flits of static, made them watch as he gestured to himself, to the thawed frost glass where brick had once been.

“ _I’ll tell ya right now I sure as  t i h s  didn’t ask for this. Oh wait! I actually did!_ ”

Whatever the joke, the twins didn’t even want to wager a guess at the punchline, though Bill hardly needed their audience as he clutched where a stomach might be and cackled uproariously.

“ _Get it_!”

 _No we don’t_! They both wanted to scream, the pain and frustration and sheer unnerving anticipation of worse things to come threatening to dissolve their insides.

Instead, Dipper, taking advantage of Bill’s momentary lack of composure, staggered to his feet and started helping Mabel to her’s, but they barely had their balance before the triangle promptly quieted and regarded their insurrection with a quizzical tilt to his body, one arm bent with disappointment at his right side, the other twirling his cane.

“ _Well that’s just not gonna work_ ,” he said casually, swiping the cane which extended, bent their knees out from under them, and another volley of vicious laughter rang out as the twins hit the ground.

This time, they didn’t attempt to flee, clung close and desperate as the vibrations from Bill’s giggles crawled through their veins.

“What do you _want_!” Mabel screamed hoarsely, her throat raw with bile and cinctured panic.

Bill abruptly stopped laughing, the silence palpable and quick, and he slowly hovered down to eye level with her, reaching out a hand to gently guide some of her stringy hair behind her ear, the other slowly encircling Dipper’s neck as he made to shield his sister, and everyone’s breath hung suspended as twins and triangle alike stared at each other.

Up close, Bill’s appearance was vastly more _apparent_ , his new… construction, especially, which looked less of a sea tumbled shard and more a restriction of uncooled glass, liquid and malleable within the confinement of uneven, jagged edges. Subtler still was the slight lopsidedness of his left and bottom sides, evidence that condemned him to an imperfect scalene. Just as center set and malicious, however, was his eye, filmed over with swimming cataracts, but zeroed in with eagle-like precision on Mabel as he asked, “ _What was that_?”

Never before had she felt so small in his presence, not even in the Fearamid when he hunted her and Dipper with tongues and fangs and boiling red. At least then, she knew his motivations, knew his tricks and treacheries and how to beat them. But this wasn’t that Bill. Not anymore. This was a creature salvaged from death to fulfill a vengeance whose depravity she couldn’t even fathom, and the only ones standing between that were her and Dipper.

They couldn't survive this time.

“ _Don’t kill us_ ,” she whispered, eyes spilling over as her entire jaw shivered, and she openly sobbed when Bill wiped at her tears with his thumb.

She’d felt his clutch before, poised with energy like a cat prepared to pounce, but there was none of that anymore, just cold, smooth glass against her skin, and it made her feel more violated than anything else that had since transpired.

“ _That’s not what you said,_ ” he tutted playfully. “ _Don’t  e i l  to me_.”

But Mabel couldn’t bring herself to form even a single word, panic too thick to actually incite any rendering her unresponsive.

“ _Don’t make me  e k a m  you answer, missy_ ,” Bill continued to tease. “ _Though, I’m more than happy to_!”

“ _No_!” Dipper had finally found his voice despite the fact the triangle’s fingers were itching to squeeze it from him, and, taken aback for a second, Bill retracted both hands and floated away a few feet, considering the twins crumpled and servile at his feet.

“ _Typical_ ,” he remarked blandly after a moment, the curious surprise in his eye dissolving into… boredom?

“ _You always gotta stick up for her, huh? Or does mister smart guy just want to do this all, himself_?”

“I… wha-” But Bill cut in before Dipper could continue.

“ _Haven’t you Pines learned anything about that lone wolf bullshit_?” He sighed.

Then smiled.

“ _I mean sure hope not else this is gonna be a little bit trickier than I’d like, but I always got those tricks! No sleeves though, Fez made sure of that, huh!_ ”

The triangle snickered, the humor still lost on the twins, and he hummed amiably as he settled back against the air, patting the cushions of his invisible seat in an invitational gesture.

Neither Dipper nor Mabel moved, and Bill rolled his eye.

“ _Rude_ ,” he tutted, tapping a finger against the brim of his hat, eliciting a short, sharp _ting!_ of a sound, and all at once, the ground beneath the twins rippled like agitated animal hide and turned to molten, searing glass, engulfing them up to their stomachs, scouring their skin with blistering heat before the liquid cooled, successfully trapping their raw legs inside.

“ _Maybe be  e t i l o p  next time,_ ” Bill said over the resulting screams, watching bemusedly as they writhed in the hardened mire.

“ _Come on, it’s not that bad_ ,” he huffed when, after a good minute, they were still crying. “ _You don’t know  l a e r  torture until you’ve had your  e l o h w   g n i k c u f   e c n e t s i x e   d e t l e m   n w o d !_ ”

The air stuttered to a halt as did Dipper and Mabel’s gasps, all attention focusing on the triangle

“ _So_ ,” Bill said, eyeing them sternly before settling more comfortably back in his seat. “ _Star wants to know what I want. Wasn’t really thinking ya’d get right to the point, thought I’d have to put on a  w o h s , so thanks for not being completely obtuse_.”

He chuckled wryly, “ _Get it? Triangle jokes! Because you fucked me up so bad the only thing that makes it manageable is self flagellation_!

“ _Oh and getting to watch you two kill everyone you’ve ever loved will be  y t t e r p  fantastic,”_ he added while examining his fingertips. _“But I don’t wanna rush anything._ ”

This had the twins’ full attention and then some, but before they could even ask what the hell he meant, he chimed two fingers together, and their mouths filled with shards of glass, thick, razor slices gouging between their gums, through their tongue.

Within seconds, they were choking on their own blood.

And Bill just laughed.

“ _Had that planned in case you geniuses got it in your heads you weren’t gonna be civil and have a nice little chat. Also didn’t wanna waste it, so here we go!_ ”

They didn’t hear this.

Mabel was losing consciousness faster than her brother, her head injuries far less accommodating to this obstruction of proper oxygen, but Dipper fared only marginally better, his lungs shredding as he inhaled gobs of glass-laced blood, and, with a great heave, his sternum cracked entirely, and he collapsed forward with a helpless keen.

“ _Shit_ ,” they _did_ hear, then a chime, then it was gone.

The glass and blood vanished, although the pain still ravaged them with phantasmic agonies, and they slouched against each other for whatever support the other could offer as Bill floated down again.

“ _Not really getting anywhere with this, eh_?” He remarked stolidly, nudging Mabel’s chin with a fist as he pinched Dipper’s nose, and they could see again, the gleam of his eye, the way its perverse curvature belayed his true delight. “ _Just can’t help myself, I guess. I  e v a h  been waiting  o s  long._

“ _But enough of that_!” He rocketed up with a flourishing spin and perched in the air, kicking his legs like an anxious child. “ _Don’t have a lotta time before your meat sacks start a’kicking, so we’d best be getting down to business!_

“ _So first off,_ ” he leaned his left side in the palm of its corresponding hand and waved the other like he was addressing some stately audience, “ _who wants to shake on it? Not to give any incentive but I  l l i w  kill whoever it is last  d n a  quickly if you gimme those five little piggies right now._ ”

His whole body addled in anguish, Dipper still managed to pull in enough air and wheeze, “ _What the hell are you talking about_?” before slouching into Mabel’s meek embrace once more.

Looking over the invisible clipboard he had been pretending to study as though he were examining resumes, Bill mimed snapping his invisible pen, too, but the auditory hallucination was real, and the twins flinched violently.

“ _This is real bad for PR, you realize_ ,” he sighed. “ _Are you seriously this dumb? How did you beat me in the first place? Oh wait! You didn’t, ‘cuz here I am, and soon you  t ‘ n o w  be, but if you play your damn cards right, you  t h g i m  just live a little longer. Or I can lobotomize you right now how ‘bout! No? Then shut the hell up and listen, okay?_ ”

The twins were visibly shaking by the time Bill concluded his exasperated rant, and he sniffed disdainfully.

“ _Boo-fucking-hoo, you brought this on yourselves._

 _“Now_ ,” he flicked the switch of his tone and adopted less patronizing vitriol. “ _I’ll lay it out re-e-al simple. I got some higher-ups to pacify, and you little twinsies are gonna play middle man for your ole pal Bill. All you gotta do is kill Fez, Sixer, Question Mark - okay fuck this,_ ” he paused and kneaded at his closed eye. “ _Taking too long, you get the point. Kill everyone on that stupid, useless zodiac of yours, and then I kill both of you, and everyone’s happy! Capiche_?”

Staring down with arms outstretched, Bill was met with placid expressions.

And then… laughter?

But Mabel couldn’t contain it, was utterly _helpless_.

Because she'd never had a such a _cheesy_ nightmare.

All her other ones were so much more visceral; Bill was sinister, _relentles_ not this used con salesman divulging his whole master plan in one poorly rehearsed go, and the fact she’d almost fallen for it was frankly a bit embarrassing.

“Mabel?” Dipper whispered, worried his sister had gone momentarily insane.

“It’s a _dream_ , Dip.” She finally managed after a round of heavy hiccups. “Or I should say, _Dream Dip_ , because you are, a… dream… Dipper… brother person… _hehah.._.”

She gulped in a much needed breath (though not really, she didn’t _really_ need to breathe in dreams), and, feeling wonderfully emboldened, glared at Bill.

“I’m gonna wake up now, shitlips,” she spat at him. “And you can go _fuck_ yourself.”

“Mabel,” Dipper hissed, but his sister was too convinced of herself to listen, shutting her eyes, crossing her arms, and humming a low, long note as she waited for the dream to dissolve.

And Bill just watched, looked on without expression or emotion or the ire Dipper had anticipated. For three, solid minutes nothing happened.

And then he spoke-

“ _Boy, you sure are smart, Shooting Star. Congratulations_.”

-snapped, and the world fell away.

The green glass, cold at their waists and lacerated shins, crumbled into that fine, soft sand that first sucked them into this nightmare, curled round slowly in a spiraling whorl that quickly gained speed, pulling the twins into the center as they screamed and grappled for purchase that just wasn’t there anymore.

Wrenched them under.

Filled their cries with grit.

Scraped inside their wounded legs to grow malevolent and cancerous.

Down, _down_ they were cajoled by this sweeping sandstorm, cold about them, rushing in their ears, nothing but suffocating sand filling their fingers as they tried to reach for one another.

The heat cauterized them even before they were skewered on the singular upright shards waiting at the ready, positioned like they had been expecting the twins. It barreled through the sand, singed every unmarred inch of skin and broiled the rest, and as Dipper and Mabel opened their eyes, they saw what had happened.

And what was seconds away from happening.

Where the quicksand ended, open space yawned, a great cavern stretching wide with the sand its trickling sky studded in glassed stalactites, the ground below crackling with great swaths of flame and boiling pools of thick, grimy liquid.

And nestled right beneath the twins plummeting trajectory wreathed in flaring red, orange, and purple were situated two, imperfectly triangular shards.

And there was no time to try and change their course, reach for each other, even _scream_ ; the second Dipper and Mabel realized what was about to happen…

It did.

Impaled them in the exact center of their stomachs, the glass so scaldingly hot, their skin welded to it before the momentum from falling could even force them all the way onto the shard, the heated point now trapped somewhere between spine and navel where it began to boil their intestines.

“ _Fancy meeting you here_!” Came _his_ voice from inside their stomachs, a dense, meaty smell leaking out with it.

“ _Crazy dream, huh? Or do you  l l i t s  not get it? Heads a bit too thick? Don’t worry,  l l ‘ I   k c a r c   m e '   n e p o   n o o s   h g u o n e_!”

The blaze around them whipped up into a frenzy, and the twins opened their mouths to verbalize their tortures, but all that came out was thick, coagulated blood, half cooked chunks of their own viscera, and   _h i s   v o i c e_.

“ _D o n ’ t   a s s u m e   f o r   e v e n   a   s e c o n d   y o u ’ r e   s a f e .   I t   b e g i n s   n o w ,   a n d   y o u   c a n   m a k e   t h i s   s o   m u c h   e a s i e r   o n   y o u r s e l v e s .   O r   y o u   c a n   w a i t   f o r   m e   t o   t e a r   y o u r   m i n d s   a p a r t   c e l l   b y   c e l l .   E i t h e r   w a y ,   I ’ m   g o i n g   t o   g e t   w h a t   I   w a n t ,   a n d   y o u   c a n ’ t   s t o p   m e_.”

The rest of their innards came pouring through their mouths and nostrils, hot and gooey and steaming, evaporating as soon as it touched the flames licking up their glass pyres.

Dipper was the first to find the remnants of his own voice.

“ _We’ll tell everyone about you,_ ” he hissed through short, ragged intakes of blistering air.

“ _Cute you think that,_ ” the laughter in his hollow abdomen told him, and he and Mabel suddenly realized they were, in fact, punctured on exact copies of Bill’s new form.

“ _But you won’t_ ,” he continued, his words tickling their blackened, brittle ribs cooked to char.

“ _And you wanna know why?_ ”

One last look around the cavern as black fuzz creeped in, at the the sand feeding the flames fueling the pools of liquefied glass and their red flesh slashed and sizzling and leaking crisp bits of gore -

\- onto cold, soaked grass.

The patter of rain instead of sand, fat droplets striking their heads, soothing their abused skin.

Heat from a lightning strike instead of gouging glass.

Sick, shivering, _whole_ bodies.

They were back in the forest.

“ _B e c a u s e   I ’ m   i n   h e r e ,  t o o_ .”

And in their expressions, though they could not yet see, was perfectly mirrored their identical, crushing terror at the sound of the voice chanting within the confines of their identically wretched and infected minds.

They were back.

And so was he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Realized I forgot to link songs. The playlist doesnt exist anymore, but I still have some great tunes to share, so this chap's vibe is... https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=SLYhr11Exhg
> 
> Also @PatchworkRabbit wtf does "come back rob later" mean on ya bookmark lol, that's some strange stuff, my dude


	6. With an Old Friend on Your Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter because I think it suits the pace of the story to end this one where I do. Hope it's good. I feel like I'm holding back on Bill a bit and am being kind of evasive with the whole reveal and/or drawing it out unnecessarily but idk, lemme know what you think ~ (also i can't think of a summary just yet, but I will eventually... maybe.. idk)

They’d forgotten entirely about Pacifica.

In the viscous, acrid waste of their subconscious, none of them had thought to _think_ at all, especially about their friend. But as eyes unclosed from molten laughter to drizzling hail, they were suddenly aware of a fourth presence, _her_ presence pacing frantically at their feet as she repeated aloud to herself, “ _WhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdo_?”

“ _Pa-az_ …” the name felt short of Mabel’s parched lips and died on her tongue soaked in the memory of glass.

She tried again, whimpering just loud enough for Pacifica to halt and whip her head around.

“Thank god!” The girl cried as their eyes locked, staggering forward and falling to her knees beside Mabel. “I didn’t know what to do you weren’t waking up and I couldn’t hear a heartbeat at first and -”

“ _He_ …” Mabel tried, desperate to warn her friend, tell anybody that could help about her nightmare, but her lungs were too weak to produce anymore than a whisper. Even the thinning hail cascading down onto her face was louder. It stung, too, and she winced.

This Pacifica did notice, and she flew into an even greater panic.

“ _AreyouhurtIcheckedforbrokenbonesbutIdon’tknowwhatelse_ -”

Mabel couldn’t focus on the barrage of questions. Everything was chaos, her mind wheeling like an injured bird in search of a roost that had been burned from the roots up. Something _deep_ felt injured and sickly, but the rain and Pacifica and nausea and latent terror were making it impossible to discern what.

Energy steadily seeping from her weary bones, she let her head fall sidelong, her gaze resting on Dipper.

“Crap!” Pacifica said when Mabel made to reach for her brother. “I’m so sorry I didn’t forget you I just -”

“Pacifica!” Gathering the last of her strength, Mabel swatted her friend away as she tried to intervene, and this finally seemed to snap the girl out of her shock. At least somewhat - she still wrung her hands like she might just squeeze a solution from her knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” Mabel said on what little air she could push down her throat. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Pacifica tried to soothe, but Mabel shrunk away from the girl’s comforting touches and words.

“I’m so sorry,” Mabel said again, quieter, so only Dipper could hear as she shifted fully onto her side and pulled him as close as she could which wasn’t very at all, but his arms were warm twined against her own, familiar solidity - tangible, clammy flesh damp and sticky with crushed pine needles and caked with dirt the same as she was.

“I’m so sorry,” Dipper replied, identical right down the pleading in his eyes.

And they felt it together, the hole in their heads, this scraping of black against the parchment of their minds.

Rotted ink.

Torn bindings.

Spoiled memories and fears sutured with gold thread, but it was rusted. Fake. An imperfect copy of the real beast sewing its poisons between their synapses.

His was the fourth in their happenstantial trinity of bad weather, bad luck, and bad deals. Of two twins and their unfortunately ignorant friend. Of waking, sleeping, and that immaterial place between spaces where he had stalked and cornered them once more.

And he was there, nestled in their brains, chuckling softly as Dipper and Mabel Pines finally realized.

He had found them again.

_a h c t o G_

This they heard then nothing more, and they welcomed the blissful, blessed nothingness.

 

***

  
Dipper awoke first - was _forced_ first from the unreality of his sleep to an unreality he was still trying to convince himself of. Which for just a moment, was the easiest, _realest_ thing - his waking world one of warm blankets and dimming star stickers. Of pig snuffles and sheets plastered to his cheek where drool had dried and the soft chatter of Soos and Melody downstairs discussing tour routes for the day.

Stretching his stiff legs, he gasped silently at how sore they were and wondered what on earth he’d been doing the day before. A hike, right? With Mab-

His heart flew nearly through his teeth before he could even finish thinking the name, and he shot upright, throwing back his duvet and, with ungauged momentum, fell onto the floor from his bottom bunk with a resounding _thud_.

He didn’t even feel the impact.

He had to get up.

His legs felt filled with worms, though ( _wormy grey_ ) useless ( _not-him_ ) and liquefied ( _grimy, glassy pools of the stuff_ ).

“Mabel,” he croaked against the floorboards, flits and flashes ( _like razor gashes_ ) of Bill and blood and pain assaulting as he lay helpless, just too far from his sister.

He sobbed bitterly, desperately. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t couldn’t _couldn’t_ …

At some point, in his half lucid horrors, hands too big and warm to be _his_ carefully lifted Dipper and placed him back under the blankets. A different set followed with water for his swollen tongue and something small and round that took it all away again.

“I thought he was getting better.” Dipper didn’t hear.

“They were stuck out there for three hours. We’re lucky they’re doing this well.”

“I know, I’m just worried.”

“If it gets worse, we’ll go to the hospital.” Someone did hear.

“Just let them sleep. God knows they need it.”

Mabel heard, and just as footsteps receded outside the door, she threw her head over the side of her mattress and dry heaved. Nothing came up, but her body kept trying to expel.

Something.

It.

_Him_.

But of course he wasn’t in her stomach.

Of course, it was never as easy as puking your guts up.

She knew. She’d done so only hours ago - three, apparently.

How _befitting_.

“ _The irony’s  d e l e c t a b l e, ain’t it_?”

It was her turn to fall to the floor and scrape her cheek against the one floorboard that wasn’t thoroughly lacquered, and raucous giggles bled between her ears.

“ _Real klutz, eh? Pine Tree give you some pointers_?”

Vaguely, she recalled the adage “seeing is believing” and wondered if, maybe because she could only hear him, she didn’t have to believe at all. Believe any of this, believe his chattering like a set of wind up teeth. Maybe if she refused to put two and three together, there would be no answer.

Two: her and Dipper.

Three: that triangular son of a bitch.

But then what about the _solution_.

“ _Gotta lotta wheels turning in here, Star,_ ” he said despite her disbelief and careful equations. “ _Care to share_?”

It was loud, his voice, but not enough to breach her brain and alert anyone besides her. Her and Dipper, she knew. He had it too - had _him_.

_No_.

_He_ had _them_.

And she had to fix it, she had to tell _somebody_.

This was her fault, after all.

After all, she’d been the one too deep in the woods.

The fresh scabs on her cheek smarted as the tears coursed over, and she shakily forced herself onto her elbows, hands, knees, and then stilled, sat on her heels with her head hung low, her back quivering ever so slightly as she wept.

“ _Fealty already_!” He gushed, and she could feel his gouge of a grin. “ _You’re too  k i n d, Star. Now we gotta just get Pine Tree on his knees, and we can get this show on the road_!”

Suddenly, and entirely divorced of her own volition, her spine stiffened, straightened, and her legs swayed onto feet that began step- _stepping_ to the other side of the room. To Dipper, lain fitfully beneath the covers. Her hand reached to pull them back - just a bit, just enough to expose his neck, and something twanging at the nerves behind her eyes trained them on the pulse beating along her brother’s throat.

She reached, but it wasn’t her reaching.

She thought about telling herself to stop, but that command was promptly shoved aside, _strangled_ it felt like.

She _reached_.

And her fingernails _itched_ like skin rife with rash and disease, wanting nothing more than to carve her brother open right where she could see the _pulse_.

“ _N-no_ ,” she managed weakly, struggling with everything she had to pull her hand away, throw herself to the floor, anything to stop him.

It worked. Sort of.

Just as she grazed Dipper’s skin, control was abruptly returned to her, and she toppled over onto her backside, a thousand voiced chorus of cruel, biting laughter splitting her brain in half.

Her resulting screams were cut short as her hands flew to her own throat, stifling her cries for help to a more manageable, spluttering croak, and he seethed with a smile, “ _Can’t have that, m i s s y._ ”

“ _Ple-ease…_ ” darkness encroached as oxygen whithered.

“ _Promise to keep it  z i p p e d_ ?”

She could give no answer as he gave one, final squeeze before releasing her, and she rolled onto her side, gasping ragged, uneven breaths.

“ _Get it now_?” He said.

_No no no no n-_

“ _Is that denial or are you just plain  s t u p i d , Star_?”

She didn’t know, didn’t know anything except the pain and fear and-

Why hadn’t anyone come for her yet? Surely someone must have heard her thrashing and cries, surely his carry-on carried beyond her mind. She couldn't contain this all. _Surely_ , her skull was _sure_ to rupture from it and alert someone.

“ _Love this,_ ” he remarked, “ _love that fighting spirit. Lotta  g o o d  it’s gonna do you, though, unless you put it to my uses_!”

“ _Never_ ,” she hissed through sore teeth.

She’d die before she helped him in any capacity.

“ _That can be arranged_ ,” he said, and she bristled at his nonchalant tone, pulling her knees to her chest as she lay exposed and helpless on the floor.

“ _You really think you can just  i g n o r e  this, Star_?” Something stroked the space between her skull and scalp, a pantomime of a hand playing with the roots of her hair. “ _I mean, sure, you’re welcome to  t r y. In fact nothing would bring me greater satisfaction than breaking you two down before the  r e a l  fun starts, but I’m also kinda impatient after, ya know, a   y e a r   o f   w a i t i n g   t o   t u r n   y o u   b r a t s   i n s i d e   o u t._

“ _Dead or alive_ ,” he continued, less enraged, “ _you and your brother will bring my plans to fruition. I’m just gracious enough to give you a choice of how you want to go. Slow, steady insanity or quick, painless submission_?”

Closing her eyes was a mistake. There was no dark reprieve when she did, only burning yellow in camera flash brightness that seized her every cell, trained every ounce of autonomy she had left on him

“ _W h a t ’ l l   i t   b e_ .”

She didn’t pause, didn’t _think_ , just opened her mouth and _howled_ , shrieked like a wounded banshee, and the sound carried for a solid five seconds before her tongue was forced against the back of her throat, effectively gagging her.

But those five, desperate seconds were enough, and downstairs the scrape of chairs and scrambling feet was music to her ears.

“ _Not smart, kiddo_ ,” he growled. “ _Gonna let this slide, for now. You made your choice, so I’m gonna let you and Pine Tree stew in it for a bit, see what’s left to pick off your bones._ ”

Help was almost at the door, she could hear it racing up the stairs and him slowly receding into hiding.

“ _Oh_!” He burst back in full technicolor screech. “ _Duh, can’t have you tattling just yet. Unless you wanna learn that the hard way, too._ ”

There was a _wrenching_ sensation just behind her eyes, and the world collapsed.

When next she woke, she did so without opening her eyes because they already _were_ , staring sightlessly at the wall. _Her_ wall. The one painted canary yellow.

She closed them and was met with a rosy, dull gold glow.

No darkness.

There was nowhere she could escape.

Not anymore.


End file.
